Red and Silver Coils
by LilliaJohnson
Summary: Atton and the Exile, Lillia Johnson, meet 7 years before the events of TSL. LSFExile/Atton pairing. My first story, so be kind.
1. Chapter 1

_"Please, Jaq, you don't understand..." there was a badly concealed sob in her voice. _

_"Shut up, girl..."_

_"You can still be saved..."_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_She shrank back slightly, fear evident on her face. But the defiance in her eyes never faded and her compassion never waned. Her convictions surprised him, and a small voice in his mind was quietly singing her praises. The strength of her convictions and her beliefs stirred admiration within him. Her display of weakness, however, incensed him, and the respect he had for her faded into rage. A flow of electrical current passed through her petite frame, and her body began to twitch and spasm. Her mental and physical health had greatly diminished over the last few hours due to the barrage of assault to both her mind and body, and finally her self discipline cracked. Her screams began to echo within his mind, and it was all he could do to stop himself from crying out with her, the shrieks somehow amplified beyond the boundaries of normal vocal processors. He released the electrical field, and her agonised shouts were replaced with pitiful moans of misery and horror. She could no longer stand; every time she attempted to raise herself on her weak limbs, they gave out and she would collapse in a heap at his feet. And in Jaq's mind, it was a fitting place for her._

_And then, just when it seemed she would die from the pain, he heard it. Faintly at first, like a friendly voice from another room in a large house, beckoning, but it grew stronger, louder, something that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not ignore or endure. The screams of countless hundreds, of the people he had killed, or made to suffer by causing them to fall as far as he were building in his head. It was in his very heart and soul, vibrating through his very core.. The emotions he had trained himself to keep close to him became wild and untamed, building a pressure that was threatening to cause them to spill forth like a flood, drowning him in lust, fear rage, despair... and his disgust for Jedi, his blind hatred, seemed to be grappling with a new, truly alien emotion, one never felt by someone who had fallen as far as he, nor had it been felt by anyone so deeply then at that moment..._

_He loved her, more than anything, and the need to save her, in his own, cruel way, had never been so great. But at the same time a minuscule fear, a hint of intense loathing was beginning to cloud over his mind, and fury, along with the bitter taste of bile rose in the back of his throat. A white hot anger was building, fuelled by the knowledge that she was reaching him a way he cold never have perceived, believing his mind to be secure and completely guarded, unable to be manipulated and twisted by someone like her. It was not torture, but something worse. It was the mere thought of what he had done over the brief course of his life... that was his personal torment, and his salvation._

_Unimaginable rage seemed to fill him, looking down into her dead, hollow eyes, eyes that were slowly filling with tears, a sign of the misery that she felt of seeing someone so young as he take such a terrible and self-destructive path. She would not destroy him like this, change his fate in such a way. He had chosen this life._

_But it was no longer his fate he was concerned about, it was hers._

_If they found her here, now, in this sad, empty room, an un-named torture cell fit for her tomb, they would kill both assassin and jedi. Or worse, sense what the two of them felt, the Force within, and twist them; break their spirit like spun glass being smashed against a hard stone wall. But at this point, Jaq had lost control completely, and before she had realised what he had done, her captor's hands were around her slender neck, lifting her up against the cell wall. His fingers were pressing down hard on her windpipe, his arms turned downward so that his elbows rested hard on her forearms, effectively pinning her against the wall and destroying all hopes of escape or freedom or his redemption._

_Jaq looked into her dark, sad, now-empty eyes once more._

_He looked at what he was about to lose._

_He thought about what he would gain by killing her. _

_Would it be the pleasure of overpowering another of her kind, killing them one by one like animals to the slaughter? Or would it be guilt? He just didn't know anymore._

_He leant forward and kissed her softly. And he began to squeeze._

-------------------------

This was maddening. He had been stuck in this cage for a week, without food or company, and for what? A couple of bottles of boot-legged juma and a blaster? The galaxy was a screwed up place.

Atton sighed and leant back against the wall behind him, partly to rest his legs but mostly to avoid the fluxing energy sheild. Great, now he was in danger of electricution. He wasn't sure what would be more pleasant, that or starving. He was just starting to contemplate what his last words may be ( for the record, he was thinking of 'who's the galaxy going to revolve around now?'), when the door of the security room opened and a woman hovered outside.

She was beautiful, that was his first thought. It was his second, as well. Or at least, the part of her he could see was beautiful, she was half shadowed, standing just outside the cell room. Unusually tall for a woman, around 6"2, though her height merely added to her appeal. Her subtle muscles blended with the delicate curves of her form creating a harmonious combination of vulnerability and strength. Her flat, tanned stomach was bare and covered with scars that could have been carved into her flesh with a blade, the patterns both grotesque and artistic. Light from the security room was causing them to look deeper and burnt, like someone had placed a candle against her skin. A look of annoyance flashed over her face for the briefest of instants when he saw the slightly lecherous look on his face at the sight of her barely covered form, but faded into one of relief at finding someone else who hadn't been shot down and mauled by force only knows what.

He gulped slightly. He probably would have been staring at her anyway, despite her state of undress. He hadn't seen a woman in at least a month, much less an attractive one, and now the Force decided to bless him with one wearing nothing but her underwear. If you could even call it that, it looked more like a cross between a black swimsuit and a slave girl outfit. Not to mention she was wearing ebony boots that topped of her slightly erotic appearance nicely. Unfortunately, her appearance was made slightly less alluring by the mining laser she carried. It was being held with the experienced hand of someone who knew how to get out of a tough scrap- and had been forced to. Frequently.

"Are you an angel?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them_. Stupid, stupid, stupid_! _Dammit, why do you always have to say whatever pops into your head_? It didn't seem to faze her much, though, she merely took a few steps forward, the deadly grace of her walk only disrupted by the efficient step of a soldier that she, seemingly out of habit, fell into as she strode forward. But a slight blush rose onto the part of her face he could just barely see, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a slight smile.

"Excuse me?" she said. Even as she spoke her smile grew larger, and it felt like his heart had been ripped out, put in a food processor and liquefied. In other words, he melted like ice on Tatooine. Which was totally ridiculous, seeing as no-one had ever had that effect on him before, regardless of their pretty smile or siren voice, a voice that surrounded him like liquid gold, smooth and dark, and sinfully rich.

That voice was achingly familiar, though, like a voice singing to him as a baby, a memory from another time he had tried to block. But it there was time to dwell on that small mystery later: the woman was still standing at the doorway, arms crossed over her not-quite-covered chest, her face still mostly shadowed and warped slightly by the energy field of the cage. Everything from the clicking of her tounge to her pose was wordlessly asking for a reason for the words uttered by the scruffy-looking prisoner.

To cover up the slight embarrassment of his slip of the tongue, he chuckled softly, a slightly hungry look drifting over his features as his eyes racked over her barely covered form.

"Don't worry, I'm just kidding. That was one of the worst lines I've ever used. Gotta hope some poor kid doesn't start using it."

" Uh-huh... believe me, our current situation is more important than your lousy attempts at a pick-up."

"I bet it is. So, tell me," he clapped his hands together, pushing away from the wall and straightening his stance," Did you miners change regulation uniform while I've been in here or something? Not that I'm complaining or anything..."

"Just keep those eyes up and tell me- wait a second...Atton?"

She finally entered the room completely, and he could see her face clear as day. The second he did, it was like touching an open, electro-static conduit. For a moment, just one fragile, disgustingly clichéd moment, time seemed to come to an abrupt halt. The universe stood still, the sounds of consoles and automated mechanical clicks became white noise, and all other things in the things in the galaxy fell away except for her, the only important thing in existence, the one, pure , precious life-form left. Her eyes grew wide, and she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly to one side as if doing so would help her figure out if he really was here. Her face was strange, empty, that face that had haunted him for the last six years.

She had barely changed her appearance in that short span of time: her hair was still the same length, wavy and flowing down her back to rest at her waist, the colour of Corellian cherries. Two strands fell into her eyes, green flecked with turquoise and gold, like gems reflecting the sun setting over water. Eyes that someone could become lost in if they weren't careful. Eyes that he had often stared into before leaning down to kiss her...

Atton began to tremble slightly, his mouth opening slightly. An eternity seemed to pass as they stared transfixed at each other, running their eyes over the other, not believing what they were seeing_._ After what seemed like days, he broke the silence with the nearly inaudible whisper of her name. It echoed and vibrated in the air, standing testament to how every day since they had parted, he had thought about her constantly; how every second felt like it was meaningless, and living without her felt like a piece of his heart had been sliced away with a vibroblade. It carried with it the same weight and fear as it had the last time he had uttered it, the adoration and joy, and a flood of memories, long suppressed, washed over them both, boiling hot and bitterly cold.

"Lillia, I-" His breath caught in the back of his throat, preventing anymore words from forming. His voice seemed to bring her out of her daze, and before either of them realised exactly what she was doing, she had strode over to the console near his cage, deactivated the force field and walked over to stand in front of him. There was a moment when he thought a blaster bolt was headed his way, before she caught him completely by surprise and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Shock prevented him from reacting immediately, but she nuzzled into his neck, breath hot on his cool skin, and she gripped him tighter as his arms finally, hesitantly, went around her. They stood there for how long, neither of them knew, in each others arms, until the distant sound of metal clanging to the ground jerked them apart. For a few seconds, no movement was made as they stared at each other raptly once again, small, tentative smiles gracing their faces. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair lightly, and pulled her closer to him before capturing her in his arms again. He breathed in deeply, savouring her familiar scent of moist dying flowers inhibited only by the stench of healing fluid and blood. They drew away from each other again, and he leaned forward and kissed her. Her smile faded somewhat when he did, but he didn't seem to notice.

Needless to say, he didn't expect the punch in the stomach he received from her. It hurt.

------------------------

AN: alright, it's really badly written, and I'm sure there are still numerous typos, the storyline is pretty bad and I don't expect anyone to read this, let alone comment and offer handy hints. But, if by some sheer miracle someone DOES read this, please offer some advice and point out any mistakes. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2 remember me?

_Nar Shaddaa. A gaping pit in the middle of space, where the lost, the desolate and the unwanted found a haven. Where refugees are treated like dirt until they scrounge up enough credits to gain some respect, and the Exchange bosses were kings among men. Every trace of your existence could be lost just a few hours after you set foot on that world, your identity wiped clean and your past erased. This, of course, is why Jaq had come here._

_It had been twelve months since he had left that Jedi woman's corpse in the unmarked, un-named 'persuasion' room, and so far, he had done nothing but eradicate all evidence that Jaq Rand had ever lived. Hell, he knew that the time would come soon when he would have to change his name and appearance, and that, in fact, pleased him slightly. After his desertion of the Sith forces, he had found his life was empty, as hollow and useless as he felt. He had no home, no career, and anyone he could have concidered 'family' was either lost or dead. At only 24 years of age, had no future. That was the only regret he had had about leaving the Sith; at least there, he had a purpose, a life, respect. _

_He stepped wearily off the Exchange transport ship he had stolen from the Nal Hutta docking port, and looked around at the docking port glumly, his expression tired and exhausted. The stench of chemicals and desperation hung in the air, making his lungs sore and forcing them to begin working over-time to collect the required amount of clean oxygen. A refugee ambled by, looking like he was going to hit him up for credits, but stumbled away when he saw the slightly murderous glance Jaq shot at him. _

_Jaq sighed as the man hurried off, muttering to himself. This particular section of Nar Shaddaa was in a sorry state, he didn't blame the old guy for needing to scrounge up cash from strangers. Things were actually worse off here than anywhere else on the desolate Smugglers moon. Walking down the street without a blaster was like painting a bullseye on your forehead. Credits were more than currency; it had become a status symbol. Having enough to buy a glass of Juma, a couple of hands of pazaak, and a sad, filthy hotel room for the night elevated you above nearly the entire community. Corruption was worse than anywhere Jaq could have chosen to go to with the amount of credits he had at the time - It had actually come to a point where people would try to steal the food out of your mouth if you didn't keep your eyes on it. To put it bluntly, it wasn't the best place to be, unless you wnated to lose yourself and never be found._

_It turns out that coming to Nar Shaddaa was the best decision he ever made._

_There are some things that everyone in the galaxy knows as if the axioms was born and bred into them. Work and Women mix like juma and Corellian ale. Always keep your eyes on the person playing pazaak with you, because chances are, they're skifting you. And don't ever walk anywhere near a Nar Shaddaa alleyway at night. Ever. _

_Unfortunately, the woman walking ahead of him didn't know these rules. _

_She obviously hadn't been on the planet long. Or at least, not long enough to realise that everything about her, from her small, shuffling footsteps to her nervous manner, was attracting predators. The small, narrow area of space between the two buildings she was meandering past, about fifty meters from the now empty docks he was standing at, was splattered with blood, carbon scoring was on every surface within a twenty metre radius and stolen personal items, no doubt taken from hapless refugees and deemed unworthy to pawn off to the local scrap merchant by scavengers, were littering the area towards the entrance of the alley. These less-than-subtle details alone should have been enough to warn her it was a scavengers and muggers hovel of the worst kind. But the mixture of inattentiveness and obvious inexperience meant she was taken completely by surprise and stripped of any chance of defending herself against the owner of the hand that darted out from the shadows and pulled her into the dark abyss that was the alleyway._

_For a few seconds, Jaq was frozen, rooted to the spot, both by fear and a reluctance to help. A part of his mind, still very attached to the Sith way of doing things, told him she could probably take care of herself without his interference, and if she couldn't she deserved to die for her weakness. But the other, larger part of him, that had recently seen the light, so to speak, was telling him to at least _try_ to help her. At least there was a chance he could die and save all the trouble of creating a new life. It didn't matter what he would have chosen anyway; all thoughts reverted to instinct when he heard the small cry echo out across the docks, and his legs began to move on their own accord. Before he could grasp exactly what he was doing, his blaster had been removed from its holster and he was tearing around the corner of the alleyway. His breath caught in his chest, his breathing heavy and laboured, and in the darkness he saw the glint of a knife; neon lights reflecting of someone's belt; and the spurt of blood. A feminine cry vibrated in the air, and suddenly, Jaq started firing wildly, no longer caring who or what he hit, unexplainable rage building up inside. The scream had reminded him of the silver-haired Jedi that had died to save his soul from certain corruption, and had set him off like nothing had before._

_In the darkness, a large number of blurred shapes were moving to intercept him; after another round of wild shooting, he managed to down three of those closest to him. Groping around in the night, he felt his fingers close around a stun baton- even if he didn't hit anyone, at least now the electrical current flowing over the small rod would allow him to see a few meters in front of him._

_After a few seconds of fumbling and cursing, he activated it, and was fast enough to drive it through the neck of their leader; he could tell as it was the one with the most equipment and the worst injuries- it appeared that their victim had landed a few decent hits to him before he had distracted. From what he could make out in the dim, flickering light eminating from the shock stick in his hand, their would-be victim was using a small strap of leather that had previouly held her hair up in a tight ponytail to choke the man closest to her. He watched her for a second before being forced to duck as his attacker aimed a blow at his throat. As luck would have had it, a small impulse in his arm caused it to flail upwards, the stun stick making contact with a part of the thugs body that any sane male would rather a shock stick didn't go. He let his legs buckle, nearly colapsing on top of Jaq, just as he heard a small wimper come from his only help. He gave the massive man that was currently passed out on his back a large shove, letting him fall to the ground, and watched as his supposed damsel in distress collapsed, the hilt of a knife potruding from just underneath her ribcage. _

_He swung his fist to his left, and judging by the sickening crunch he heard and the spurt of blood onto his hand, he had shattered the fragile cartilage of another mans nose. His attacker cried out and his knees gave out, and while he was writhing on the ground, Jaq aimed a shot to his head. His scream faded into silence, and he was left with one more adversary. _

_He turned to aim his weapon at the last thug, only to have it knocked out of his hand. It skidded a few meters, leaving Jaq defenceless, the stun baton still lodged in the gang leader's skull. Before he could land a hit on his final foe, there was a flash of blinding pain, and he felt something cold penetrate the skin of his hip. He glanced down, only to see a small vibrodagger sticking out of his side. But it would not matter- during the wars, he had suffered a worse injury and blocked out the pain easily. He wrenched it out of his flesh, and responded in kind to his now weaponless attacker, driving it into his chest. The mans eyes opened wide, shock appearing briefly on his face- partly because of the sudden movement and fatal wound, but mostly because Jaq was still standing after a harsh blow that would down a rancor- before it faded into the hauntingly peaceful look that graced the face of many after death._

_For a moment, Jaq was still as adrenaline rushed through him, revelling slightly in the thrill of taking a life, before a soft moan brought him back to his senses. His legs found the will to move again, and he made his way over to the girl, surprisingly calm despite the dire situation she was in. He flipped her onto her back, not as gently as he should have, and began to run his hands over her body, examining her carefully for injuries. So far, she was indeed requiring urgent medical attention, and there was a good chance that if she lost consciousness, she would never wake. And the thought of that, strangely enough, irked him to the core._

_She was stirring, her eyes fluttering open and shut like a butterfly beating it's wings furiously to free itself from a spiders web._

_"Come on, sweetheart, stay awake," he mumbled, slightly desperate now as he discovered the extent of her injuries. He had limited medical expertise, just standard republic training, essential for all troops, and he barely remembered it after three years. He had no medpacks on him, so he knew he would be forced to make do with the old, useless-looking, expired kolto injection that had fallen from the pocket of one of the thugs. He probed gently with his fingers, hoping he would not harm her further during his ministrations, or risk passing on some kind of infection due to the amount of dirt and grime on his hands._

_Her clothes were interfering with his attentions and preventing him from helping her in any way, until finally, grunting with frustration, he grabbed the vibrodagger he had pulled out of the abdomen of the final thug, slid it under her shirt and, using the serrated edge to cut at the seems, starting from the hem and moving up to the collar, tearing the thin material, causing the already tattered garments to turn to shreds. Carefully, so to not tear at any skin around the numerous lacerations she sustained during their short tussle with the Nar Shaddaa welcoming party, he peeled away the bloody rags that used to be her over-shirt and winced slightly when he saw the deep punctures in her stomach. After a few seconds of prodding, it was discovered that the jagged blade had missed most of her organs. _

_She was still going to require surgery- pieces of metal had been driven into her back when she fell to the ground, narrowly missing her spine and poking out of her stomach, she was bleeding heavily, and obviously something important had been pierced. She was going to need some time in a kolto tank, surely, and if he injected her with the kolto now and kept her awake long enough, she had a chance._

'Why are you bothering, Rand?'_ a tiny, sly voice in the back of his head was whispering, '_She's going to die anyway, no matter what you do. Why waste your time, it won't bring that Jedi girl back...' _He pushed those thoughts away, and fumbled with the injection, driving it into her flesh like he was spearing fish. _'She's been beaten to a pulp, Rand, why not bruise her more, idiot,' _he cursed when a small groan escaped her lips as he pulled out the needle. The effects of the kolto were slow to act- the fluid must have coagulated and caused the healing process to slow- but eventually, the bleeding around parts of her mid-section halted, her tremors of pain eased slightly, and parts of her battered body began to fade, the skin stretching over her exposed flesh and causing the wounds to appear several days old. _

_After watching the healing fluid do it's work for several seconds, Jaq lifted his head to glance at her face. She was beautiful, he grudgingly admitted to himself, and her eyes flickered open once again to fix on him. To his slight disgust, he found himself fascinated by her eyes, the swirling green orbs staring up at him, unfocused and dazed, asking him silently why he was trying so hard to save he life. He shook his head slightly, cursing himself once again for his stupidity-_ 'She's lying here semi-naked and bleeding, and you get distracted by her _eyes?!_ What in the name of the force is _wrong _with you?'- _but conceding to the fact that if he hadn't glanced at her face, he never would have seen the deep gash on her forehead. Blood had been leaking out of it, but it had now crusted over. She was slightly feverish, and sweat was pouring down her brow, turning the blood into liquid once again._

"_Great, just what you need, babe, a head injury..." Jaq muttered, and her eyes closed again, "Hey, HEY, eyes open, c'mon, look at me," he said, panicking slightly._

_"_Why, why am I panicking, hell, why am I _bothering?' he thought. A sense of hopelessness and resignation filled him. '_I can't do anything. I'm no medic...' _and he sighed inwardly. _'So find someone who is.' _he thought simply, and he nearly kicked himself for not thinking of something so obvious earlier and making things so damned difficult for himself._

_A sudden, previously unknown determination filled him as he slid his left arm under her limp legs, and wrapped his right around her shoulders firmly, lifting her into his arms. The sudden movement surprised her, and he could feel her shiver, from both cold and pain at his slightly rough treatment. He winced when he heard a small cry escape her lips as he stood, and adjusted her in his grasp so to fit her more comfortably. He turned on his heel, and her head lolled from side to side, the action caused her eyes to open and focus on him once again. _

_He could tell now it was becoming more difficult for her to simply continue breathing, the air that was being released from her lungs came out in small, shuddering gasps. Her blood was still dripping out of her back and was beginning to stain his jacket and shirt, and he began to run towards the closest set of building in their vicinity. She was by no means heavy, but her dead weight in his arms was slowing him down, and her skull kept connecting with his chest. He pushed all thoughts of pain, misery and self-loathing aside for a few moments, and ran into the darkness, searching for a medic to save the life of a red-head he had never met._

_And so Jaq Rand's redemption began. _

_------------------------------------_

"What the frack was _that _for?!" Atton cried, doubled over with pain. For a few seconds, the wind was taken from his lungs, and his eyesight became slightly fuzzy. After he had time to collect himself, he straightened, only to have Lillia's hand connect with the side of his face. He was thrown back a few inches, due to both muscular strength and the fact he was taken completely taken back, and collided hard against the wall, a cry of pain escaping his lips. Looking up at her slightly, his knees having buckled after she hit him, he saw the look of icy fury on her face, the warmth of the last few moments turning to cold fire.

"_That_ was for leaving me!" she cried, grabbing the collar of his slightly off-colour shirt and dragging him up to eye level. He gulped at the power she used to force him upright, but after the daze of her attack had worn off, he realised exactly what she was implying.

"Hey, I never left _you. You _left _me_!"

"Yeah, sure I did," she scoffed, " Do you have any idea what was done to me because of you? What it was like to be imprisoned because the person you loved was-"

"Was what? A liar, a conman, a cheat?" he cried, finally fighting back, "What exactly _did_ you tell them, sweetheart? It wasn't my fault, I was-"

"I don't want to hear it." She said, her voice lowering into a menacing snarl. He swallowed hard and bit his tongue to keep from responding, and she continued, "We're in too much trouble to argue about the past now."

"Care to explain what exactly is going on?"

"Only if you tell me why you were in the force cage- and why I shouldn't just shove you back in there." She turned away, her grip tightening on her mining laser, a slightly murderous look drifting over her features.

Atton raised his hands in the air in surrender. "Look, last time I checked, you weren't a pilot, and judging by what I heard over the last few days, something really, REALLY bad has happened. You're going to need all the help you can get off this slice of paradise. Besides, I have a pl-"

"Speaking of which…" she lifted her arms and waved them vaguely around the room, cutting of the rest of his sentence "do tell my exactly what this slice of paradise, as you called, is called."

"Peragus Mining Facility. You see that planet with the exposed core when you were flying in?"

"Nope"

"Ok, then…Wait... how did you get here, then?"

Lillia sighed and shrugged. "I have no idea, I'm still trying to figure that out. Look, I need to find a way off this planet, and I really don't have time for this. So unless you have a ship hidden under that bloody jacket of yours-"

"Like I was trying to say before you interrupted me, I have a plan. I can help you." He said smoothly. She looked nothing less than amused by this statement, and he protested loudly, "I can! I swear, look, I'm not as useless as you'd like to think I am; the last I remembered you weren't exactly a crack pilot, and you'll need someone to fly you of this rock."

She seemed like she was at least considering this, and her face scrunched up like a kinrath pup, like she did when she was contemplating something difficult or distasteful. Finally she sighed, and shrugged half-heartedly. "Fine," she said coldly, "The choices are to trust you, or stay here and starve to death slowly… and I'm not quite suicidal yet." He let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding in, but sucked it back in when she spoke again, "But the moment you even think about stabbing me in the back again…" she pointed her laser at his chest, and mimed maiming him. He got the point, and nodded vigorously.

"Relax, sweetheart, I'll behave," she raised her eyebrows slightly, and he shot her a lop-sided grin, "Or, I'll try to, at least."

"Atton…" she said through clenched teeth.

"Hey, it's the best I can do- take it or leave it."

She said nothing, obviously growing tired with the conversation and disliking where it was heading, and grabbed a rose-shaped bunch of his over-shirt collar, dragging him out of the room to the adjacent control area. Despite the fact she was very neary choking him, he grinned to himself cockily as she pulled him towards a nearby security console. She'd warm up to him again, he knew it.

It was just a matter of time…

AN: I struggled a little with this chapter, unfortunately. I've been writing other chapters for this story, so… Anywho, my first action sequence ever is in this chapter, and I'm not sure how it turned out. Do let me know, won't you, dears? And if Lillia seems too vicious or irritated at Atton, there is a good reason for that, and I swear, she'll eventually at least try to like him. She really doesn't treat anyone else that badly… okay, Kreia is an exception.

Edit: Lillia fights back a little more, so...


	3. Chapter 3: Loud Silence

_Jaq had always despised hospitals. In the early days of the war, he had found himself in infirmaries on occasion, and had disliked it immensely each time. When he was a child, he had distrusted them, the sort of power they seemed to possess, the ability to save or take a life in an instant. In a way, it was a power he had always strived to possess. But more than anything, he loathed the waiting- sitting in an empty, stark-white room, while a loved one or acquaintance struggled for life only inches away, or being forced to try and relax while your fate could be decided by a total stranger at any moment... the sense of helplessness disgusted him._

_When he had burst into the infirmary hours ago after several minutes of frantic searching, the receptionist and doctors on duty barely batted an eyelash before lifting her onto a bunk and forcing him out the door and into the cold, barren room to sit and watch as other ill or injured people stumbled in. There were seven other people nursing benign injuries or sneezing into their sleeves, pursuing year old holo-mags or shifting uncomfortably under the receptionist's hawk-like gaze. The room itself did nothing to inspire confidence in the medical service. It was dank, the lighting poor and the small amounts of neon light strobing in through the high, dirty-looking windows and from the dusty panels on the low ceiling served to make the area sadder still._

_But Jaq couldn't care less about where he was. His thoughts were straying to the red-head he had dragged in here in the early hours of the evening. It is often a horrible feeling when a person is forced to wait for someone in a hospital, and Jaq was not taking the situation very well, but to add to the tension and worry there was a small child sitting next to him, nearly ejecting his own lungs every time he coughed. A small spray of mucus was forced out with every spluttering exhale, and rained down on Jaq's arm, the droplets staining his shirt slightly. He flinched every time the boy choked on his own bile, and instead tried to focus on not strangling the child. For a few moments he watched as a middle aged woman flicked through her data-pad while an older, confused looking man walked in and out of the doorway, as if unsure as to what to do with himself, or even where he was. The coughing continued, louder and more grating than before, and the former-assassin clenched his fingers around the armrest of his chair, gritting his teeth as the small boy beside him took in another shuddering breath, only to burst into another coughing frenzy._

_"Look, will you for cryin' out loud, suck on a cough-drop or something?!" he cried suddenly, turning towards the small child next to him. His face moulded into an interesting expression of shock and fear, and his bottom lip quivered. His mother, looking alarmed, scooped up the boy and walked to the other side of the room before settling down onto another of the rickety chairs and shooting murderous glances over her shoulder at the man who had yelled at her son. Meanwhile, everyone else had taken to staring avidly at Jaq for several minutes until he shot them all an expression which clearly told them not to mess with him if they would prefer living. The wound on his side was beginning to become noticeable, a dull, throbbing pain that would sear through his abdomen with every movement. _

_Jaq sighed, and let his head fall into his cupped hands, wincing as his injury flared hot and painful again, shooting up his side and through his torso, tingling up along his shoulders and his right arm. He leaned back into his worn chair, letting his hands rest lazily on his knees and stretching his legs out from around the legs of his seat to in front of him- his actions all accompanied with a long, agonized groan as his side screamed white-hot stings through his body. The receptionist glanced up at his, pulling her eyes away from her computer and from her frantic attempts at filing for the first time in hours. She shot him a disapproving glare and placed a finger to her pursed lips, shaking her head vigorously at him. He merely scowled at her and let his head loll back, resting it on his left shoulder and allowing his eyes to fall closed. A sudden weariness hit him with the force of two albino kath-hounds butting horns, his eyelids felt like they had small pieces of durasteel weighing them down. A loud yawn escaped his lips, earning him another glare from the overly rude receptionist, and his muscles released days worth of built up tension. Even the pain in his side dulled slightly, until it was no more than a pulsing, muffled stinging. Finally, he felt consciousness slip away, and fell into a deep sleep. And almost immediately, he began to dream in black, and silver, and red, and indigo…_

_The black of his old uniform, the indigo colours of the night sky on Denik 5, the silver of the Jedi woman's hair… and the crimson red of her blood. And the memories of the screams… all of it came to the surface as his mental barriers fell away for the first time in so long._

"_Jaq, please…" She was getting desperate now. "I'm not trying to manipulate you, I'm trying to save you."_

_Why?" he hissed, pulling her off the floor of his quarters, wondering how she had managed to bypass the complicated locking mechanism and find her way inside. _

"_Because, if I don't, you'll lose yourself, and so will Ana…" she said, trailing off and looking suddenly, if possible, more frightened than before._

_He looked almost amused. "Who's Ana? Is she a sister, cousin… or lover? Though I doubt it, I thought Jedi gave all of that shit up the moment they turned on their light-sabres for the first time? They say something about 'no attachments'?"_

_The girl looked on the verge of tears now. "No. She's not _my _lover, Jaq… you don't get it, you won't for a long time… In a way, she isn't really your's either…" She seemed to be talking mainly to herself now._

_But he was no longer listening, and grabbed her by the upper arm, dragging her to her feet as her face moulded into an expression of fear and shock. He forced her against a nearby wall and kissed her roughly, before pulling away, grabbing both of her wrists with his right hand, forcing her away from the wall. And without another word, or even pausing to look at his next and last victim, he pulled her out of his room and began to tug her towards the closest cell… _

"_Sir… hey, sir. Are you okay?"_

_Jaq could feel a small, cold hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He kept his eyes closed, willing for whomever it was to leave him alone for just a few more seconds, but she- the hand was too small to belong to anyone other than a woman or a small child, and the voice was soft and definitely female- was persistent, and continued to try and rouse him from his fitful sleep. He inwardly groaned, and felt his eyes open of their own accord, to meet a pair of soft brown almond-shaped orbs. For a few seconds neither person moved, and he subconsciously scrutinized her appearance- she was fragile enough to still be little more than a child, her long black hair coiled around the back on her head. She drew away from him, looking slightly embarrassed- he had only just noticed how close the two of them had been- and smiled in relief as he sat up tiredly and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. He took a moment to observe his surroundings, temporarily forgetting why he was in a hospital._

"_You must have been having one hell of a nightmare. I could hear you moaning and groaning all the way from surgery." She grinned down at him, a small amount of lust entering it, and Jaq found himself mirroring that sultry smile._

"_You were the one that came in with the bleeding redhead, right?" she asked, and Jaq felt the smile slide of his face as worry filled him. '_How could you forget about her, you idiot?!' _The small voice in his head had returned, and he shook his head briefly before perking up completely and asking in concerned – if not slightly forced- tones, "Is she alright? What happened, did I get her here in time? Dammit, if she dies, it's my fault-"_

"_Calm down, she's fine, she was just taken out of her kolto tank." She said, surprised at his sudden commotion. Jaq leant back in his seat, breathing a sigh of relief. "Can I see her, or is she-"_

"_She's fine, she's awake. You can go talk to her in a minute after you fill out some details. This may be a hutt moon, but our hospitals are still organised."_

"_Uh… Okay, sure, fine." He said, attempting to look cocky and self-assured, his smile returning with just a tiny amount of desire and confidence, causing her to blush slightly, all the while completely unsure as to what he was going to say. He couldn't answer anything about the girl, and it would be suicide to tell her anything about himself. The way he saw it, there was only two real options- explain what had happened, or lie through his teeth._

_There wasn't much time to ponder what he should conjure up; she had been handed a small datapad and stylus from the secretary and he hand was poised and ready to start noting things down. "First, I need her name and homeworld, as well as her age."_

"_Uh… I, er, don't know any of that, actually." She raised her eyebrows slightly at him, smirking, and for some strange reason, her looking at him like that… irked him quite a lot. "What? Look, she was just this girl who got attacked in an alley, so I, well… I guess I… rescued her… sort of…" he finished lamely. Rather than mock him like he expected her to, she nodded, and said, "It's strange, we usually get a story like that around here… but usually it's just someone passing by who sees some kid nearly dying, robs them and decides they'd better bring them here. Almost like an afterthought." She added, bitterness creeping into her voice. She shook her head slightly, and smiled, the resentment remaining. "I'm sorry. This job is just so frustrating…" she trailed off, and looked down at her datapad again. _

"_Well, do I at least get to know the name of her gallant rescuer?" she finally asked after several minutes of silent staring. Some would have taken it as an innocent question, but he knew in his scoundrel's heart of gold it was merely her way of trying to score a companion for the evening. Typical of Nar Shaddaa girls, but not entirely unwelcome._

"_Oh, it's J-" he said before stopping abruptly. He mentally ran through a list of names that he could use, and finally settled on one that seemed slightly appropriate- his fathers name. He chuckled with fake mortification, looked down briefly as if trying to hide his discomfiture, and raised his head to meet her understanding, if not expectant, gaze. _'Whoa, Rand, you're really laying it on thick." _he thought, slightly amused, and finally he opened his mouth, a slight awkwardness quirking the corners of his mouth. To her it looked like a moment of lingering shyness and embarrassment at nearly giving the 'wrong' name, but it was really the thought of using his departed fathers name for the first time._

_Giving a small exhale, he allowed his grin to return, and said simply, "It's Atton. Atton Rand."_

Loud Silence. Lillia had never really understood the meaning of those two words when used in conjunction before. But as she sat cross-legged atop the security console in the Peragus control room, waiting for the small astromech droid to come to her rescue and Atton Rand- of all people to be stuck with while half naked- sitting in the chair in front of her staring silently at her semi- covered breasts like he had never seen them before, she had a sudden moment of real understanding concerning that small oxymoron. She had tried to ignore him over the past few hours, but occasionally he would reach out and place a hand on her freezing cold leg and would slowly, gently start rubbing it. Rather than tell him to desist, she continued the stony silence while twitching her calf until he let go. She would then cross her arms over her chest, glaring down at him while he beamed roguishly up at her, whispering 'I'm only trying to keep you on your toes, sweetheart.' Before long, Lillia would lower her arms again to stop them from cramping, Atton would resume his staring, she would go back to contemplating their situation, and he would overstep his boundaries again be reaching out and touching her.

He had began to touch her leg again, startling her out of her thoughts. Twisting her body around so that her legs dangled over the right side of the console, she slide down until her feet touched the floor, and stood for the first time in hours, her legs slightly numb from the hours she had spent with them tightly knitted together.

"Will you _please_ not touch me?" she hissed, her voice hoarse from the long silence. He grinned up at her impishly, shrugging.

"What? I'm just making sure you're awake." He swept his eyes over her again, and a small blush coloured her cheeks. She had never liked it when he looked at her like that. Even when the two of them had been…intimate.

She glared at his for a few more minutes, mainly to ensure that he kept his hands to himself, until a small, echoing crash came from a room nearby, startling her enough to slip back into a state of combat readiness. She could fell his eyes on her as her hand darted out for her fingers to close over the handle of her mining laser. After the noise ceased, she turned back to Atton to meet his questioning gaze.

"So…" he said in a falsely casual tone, "You never did tell me where you learnt to fight like you do. I mean, I've been all over the galaxy, but there aren't many people I've met that could shoot a bottle of Juma of my head from the other side of a cantina."

She blushed slightly, an unwilling smile forcing it's way onto her face as she remembered him coercing her into doing that ridiculous party trick of hers back on Nar Shaddaa. But the small grin faded when she realised she what he was going. Digging for infomation had always been a... talent of his. She wasn't exactly sure how he used it nowdays, or why he needed it in the past, but she was getting a pretty good idea from what he was asking.

But he had continued speaking, rousing her from her slightly panicked thoughts. "With you around, we may even make it off this rock alive."

'_Was that an actual compliment? From _Him?!' she thought, unsure as to be amused or slightly concerned that he may have taken a wound to the back of his skull while her back was turned.

She was about to give a reluctant thank-you when she heard him mumble, " Or at least with you we won't have to rely on that damned Jedi walking around here…"

"What?" she asked, trying to appear as uninterested as possible as her heart seized and her pulse quickened. He twisted his upper body to face her properly, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Okay really, how long ago did you get here, and have you been asleep the entire time? Everyone knows there's supposed to be a Jedi flitting around here somewhere. Why do you think there's a bunch of dead miners around here?"

"I was assuming it was because of the out of control droids."

"Right. And who do you think reprogrammed them to go nuts in the first place?" When her face grew more confused, he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and stood, looking at her with little more than complete frustration that she wasn't catching on faster. "The miners that wanted to sell her for the bounty! Damn it, Johnson, I thought you were smart. You're just lucky you're damned pretty…"

"Wait, there's a bounty on Jedi? Since when?" she asked, letting the 'pretty' comment slide but feeling more bewildered than ever

Atton's jaw dropped slightly, and he shook his head in disbelief. "What have you been doing since I last saw you, babe?"

"Don't call me babe." she said, her irritation with him resurfacing. "And I've been… away for the last few years, if you must know."

He sighed a little, wether it was from pity or from aggravation she couldn't tell. He settled back in his chair once again. "Yeah, well, after the Jedi Civil War ended, the Exchange posted a bounty on the Jedi so massive you could buy your own system of planets with it if you wanted." He reached up and ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully, making it messier still. "I guess it's better you're here that on Nar Shaddaa right now… I here things have been getting worse over there."

For a few minutes the loud silence returned, and she began to shiver slightly from the cold, stale air that the station was filled with. She began to pace around Atton's chair, partly to keep herself warmer, but mostly to keep a better eye on the scoundrel. After it was becoming clear that if she didn't stop she would wear a hole in the durasteel flooring, Atton grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop. He natural instinct to fling him over her shoulder was threatening to kick in, before he asked in a more civilised tone than before, "So… why did you leave?"

She averted his hazel gaze, instead staring hard at the console in front of her, willing T3 to give them some sign that they could finally have some distraction, and avoid this conversation all together.

"I was…" she swallowed harshly. "I was looking for you, actually. For a while, anyway."

He smirked. "Force, Johnson, I didn't know you still cared."

"I don't anymore." she murmured.

"Than why haven't you moved away from me yet?" he whispered, his smirk returning with a slight amount of lust contained in it. He still hadn't let go of her arm, and their proximity was starting to make her edgy. She tugged her arm out of his grip, and strolled over to sit on the security console again. She turned to face him, a light glower gracing her features. She flicked a strand of hair that had fallen across her face to settle behind her ear, and watched as he settled deeper into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his eyes drift over her again.

His raking paused at her waist, a small frown on his face as he studied it carefully. She glanced down, the small scars on her left hip, a souvenir from a bar fight during her Exile, the only thing of notice there. For a moment she merely believed he had developed a scar fetish while they had been seperated before his eyes drifted to the other side, widening slightly, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach like a pebble falling into cool, calm water.

Years ago, during her first mission of the War when she had joined Revan and Malak against the Mandalorians, she and her small patrol had been forced to land on a Mandalorian controlled world as their ship was badly damaged by a recent battle. While on the surface, her party was ambushed by a small group of marauders. They were heavily armed, experienced soldiers, and though her forces had a Jedi to help co-ordinate their movements and to give them a larger chance of survival, her troops were desperate and exhausted from hours of trudging through the heated plains with the unfamiliar humidity beating onto their skin. In the confusion, one of her grenadiers had gotten it into his head it would be a good idea to launch a plasma charge to decrease the numbers of attackers. It was a foolish decision- they had been in a cramped, closed in area of rocks, it wasn't even safe to use a blaster in such close quarters. But he hadn't been thinking properly- adrenalin and fear had been coursing through him at the time, and had set off the charge without warning. Years later, Lillia could still remember the stench of burnt, melting flesh as the remaining troops were caught in the blast. It was sheer luck that had allowed her to survive ; at that moment, the Mandalorian groups' leader he stumbled in front of her, preparing a strike to her torso, when the grenade had gone off. His large armoured body had protected her left side from any damage, but her right side, mainly her lower body, was hit badly. After the initial shock had worn off, she had realised that one of her legs was badly scorched and her lightsabre had become super-heated by the plasma. The durable alloys that the weapon had been made of had prevented it from melting, but it was so white-hot that is had burnt through her robes and was starting to literally liquefy some of her flesh. She managed to shrug it off of her skin before anymore damage could be done, but it had left her with the permanent imprint of a lightsabre handle marred on her skin, just above her pelvic bone.

In the eleven months they had been together, Lillia had never allowed Atton to notice these scars out of fear he would find out that the person he would so frequently take to his bed was one of the order that had taken so much from him. But now, he was staring at the only real reminder of her life as a Jedi, a growing fear and rage building behind his eyes. An unfamiliar lump rose in the back of her throat, and tears -_tears! Why are you crying? –_were beginning to moisten her emerald eyes as they flicked up to meet his hazel depths.

"You're the Jedi." he hissed furiously, and the loud silence was broken.

AN: Sorry this has been so long in coming, but my computer crashed a few days ago. Anyway, here it is, chapter three for what it's worth - I hope you enjoyed it. It isn't exactly my best work, but I was happy enough with it to post it. The lust and banter have perked up a little in this one, but that was because a friend of mine from another site recommended I should hype it up to make it more canonical Atton. Tell me what you think works, what I can improve upon, all that jazz. The oxymoron thingy is a sort of thank you to my old English teacher- more like me trying to prove I learnt something in his 302Eng class. 

Once again, sorry for any and all errors, but I don't really have a beta at the moment. I'll get one, though! Promise!

Thanks so much to Chasing Liquor, Jord, Suzanne D. Coldfeather, Master Gizka, and anyone else who has commented on and/or favourited my stories. You make me feel all warm and squishy inside, loves. :)


	4. Chapter 4: A Day Of Firsts

**A Day Of Firsts**

_The Force has a strange sense of humour sometimes. It was bitter, in it's own way, sarcastic, and filled with a horrible sort of irony that, as much as he loathed, found was interesting as hell. It even reminded Jaq of himself at times, right down to how it forced something upon you that was usually unexpected, and almost always horribly unwelcome. Deep down, he supposed that was why he hated it so very much._

_Maybe it was merely another example of it's twisted wit, the events of the last few hours. The force itself was probably having good laugh at him even as he walked down past door after door, hospital room after hospital room, trying not to breathe in the scent of cheap cleanser cream they used on the black-and-grey tiled floor mingling with the very potent and familiar smell of blood and- for some unknown reason- juma juice. His small, light-haired guide was silent, though seemed to be casting small, furtive glances over her shoulder at him, as though she believed he might pounce on her at any moment. Whenever he caught her eye, she would simply give him a cautious smile, and subtly attempt to add speed to her step while trying not to seem like she was trying to add some distance between them. Each time she did, he merely grinned evily, and matched her pace, causing her to jump slightly and give a small frightened cough that, to him, sounded more like a whimper._

_After he had given her the abridged- if not slightly exagerated, he may have implied that he fought at least twenty large, heavily armed opponents - re-telling of the evenings events, the shameless flirt of a doctor had turned him over to another girl, a twitching, nervous-looking nurse, to lead him down the corridor to his right with little more than a taciturn nod at him and a small questioning look in her eyes at the blood splattered over him and the red, crusted stain on his side. Jaq had pretended he hadn't seen her stares, ignoring her silent inquiries, and shrugged off the painful throbbing emanating from his side. That was another reason he hadn't asked for treatment when he arrived at the clinic- at least when he was in pain, as uncomfortable as he was, it was better then feeling nothing at all._

_Over the past few months, except for the small lapses in concentration like that of his nightmare, he had tried to remain as distant as possible with everyone he met, hiding every last piece of regret, guilt and remorse under a thick coating of lust, snarkiness, holding everyone at bay with sharp quips and barbs. After days filled with pazaak and bar fights and nights filled with drunken tumbles with any slut he could find, he vagely wondered what it was a like to have a life that many would consider 'normal'._

_After a few more minutes of hurried walking, the blonde woman nodded towards a door a few meters away before walking away hastily, a look of extreme relief coming over her face. Jaq watched her leave, smirking at her awkwardness, before quietly sliding open the durasteel door and stepping inside, closing it behind him._

_She was still a bit of a mess, but that was mainly because of the webs of scars on her shoulders and neck, from times past. Slack-jawed with awe, he reached out and traced a long curved line that started at the base of her skull and travelled down her arm to her small hand . The flesh on her stomach had healed over to resemble wounds that were at least a week old, and the blood had been mopped up from her pale, paper white skin. She was sleeping peacefully at the moment, giving Jaq a good chance to look at her. She was thin, but tough and well-muscled, like someone who put all energy into building their strength, rather than leaving something to be stored as fat and padding. It was strange that she had been floored so quickly- as far as he could see, she could probably wrestled with three fully grown rancors and still come out on top. Her hair was long and tangled, falling over her face like a tattered red veil. Carefully, so not to wake her, he brushed it off onto the small threadbare pillow her head was resting on, and finally got a decent look at her face. Her small dark red mouth was slack, hanging open carelessly. She had a slight frown on her face, like a gormlessly stupid person trying to work out a difficult maths question, and flinched at small noises echoing from other rooms._

_She gave a deep, relaxed sigh and rolled on her side to face Jaq. The red hair he had just smoothed off her pretty face flopped over it again, hiding her closed eyes and making her nose twitch as her crimson coils tickled it. Half smiling, half frowning, he moved to brush the hair off her once more, but before he could even touch her, a small hand reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist tightly. He jumped slightly and let his hand snap down to his waist, planning to find a blaster there, before he realised he had left it behind when he had attempted to save her life. _Save a life... not take it... interesting, _he thought, finding himself, bizarely enough, thouroghly amused by recent events. She was staring up at his with a strange mixture of pleading, fear and suspicion in her eyes, and after a few seconds of her making soft mumbling noises he realised why she hadn't said anything or let go of his arm. There was a small gum seal over her mouth, the sort of seal that hadn't been used in about five years- they had been recalled after people had suffocated on them whilst their mouths were covered- the gum was also slightly toxic. It was used to cover the mouths of people in kolto tanks, allowing enough air to come through their mouths and stopping them from drinking in any of the healing fluid, and could only be removed by melting the gummy solution using luke-warm water. She squeezed his wrist gently, nodding towards a small ceramic bown on the table next to him and pointing weakly to the cloth lying next to it. Nodding once in understanding, he dipped the slightly greyish piece of material into the water, which seemed to have the lavae of what the locals called 'chem-flies' (they tend to feed off radiation and chemicals from the docks and the Jekk'Jekk Tarr bar, and lay their eggs in liqiuds), rinsing it once and swipped it over her mouth. The effect was instant: the gluey transparent substance dissolved quickly and she gasped, breathing in sharp lungfuls of air._

_"Hey, calm down. Take some slower breaths," he said, trying to sound soothing. He could tell his efforts weren't being recieved well, although she did start taking more regular gulps of air. After a few seconds, she calmed slightly, and asked in exhuasted tones, "Where the hell am I and why are you covered in blood."_

It wasn't really a question, or at least it didn't sound like one- it was more like an accuasation. But it wasn't her paranoia, or her fatigue. It was the emptiness. A complete and utter void where emotions like anger and fear should be, but wasn't. No pain, no lust, no passion... nothing. She could have been a droid, or a ghost. A mobile statue. Eyes that, moments ago, were speaking to him and using a palet of emotions to paint a picture he could understand, but had now returned to a dead, empty look that reminded him of Jedi before he broke them. Her emerald green orbs were staring up at him, and if they could speak, they would have been silent as the grave. The more he looked at them the more alone he left, and the small mental voice that wouldn't leave her alone was tugging at him impatiently, trying to get his attention. He shoved it aside for a few seconds, and brushed the remaining strands of hair from her forehead, a small smirk playing on his features as she frowned slightly. What was truly mystifying, however, was that despite her scowl, her expression was still so... empty. Not serene, like the Jedi, or bored, like a spacer faced with a heap of hyperspace charts, but still.

_"Well, you're in a Nar Shaddaa hospital centre, a bad one, too, and I'm covered in blood because I got stabbed trying to save your backside from drunk, uncoordinated thugs who were so stoned they couldn't even aim properly. How the hell did you go down to them?" he asked, genuinly interested as to how someone with, at closer inspection, such amazing upper body strength could have fallen to a couple of spice junkies._

_She ignored his answer, instead focusing on his side, staring at the injury as her frown returned. She seemed to be concerntrating hard, and sat up weakly. He clumsily reached out and helped her up, adjusting the pillow behind her on the head rest and proping her up against it. She leant forward as much as she could and touched the spot where the blade had pierced him, causing pain to burst through him and a throbbing pain to pump through his body. She closed her eyes, her brow creasing again, as if she was in pain, or trying to concerntrate. For a few moments, they both sat there, perfectly still, until he gave a small sigh and moved her hand away from his waist._

_"What the frack are you doing?" he asked as she pulled away, staring at her now blood-smeared hand with a vagely interested look on her face. Her head shot up to look at him when he reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking it gently to alert her to his presence, and smiled sadly, giving a weak hand gesture in the direction of his wound._

_"look... I'm sorry." and at his questioning look, she added, "That you got hurt because of me. Hey, come here..." _

_She hooked her ankles around the legs of his chair and pulled him closer to her as much as she could. He tugged himself closer as she reached to her left side where a small cabnet seperated them both from another bed, cutting the large area into two rooms, something every Nar Shaddaa hospital did to save money, gain space and increase profits. She managed to force open the top draw, despite the rust that had bulit up around the simple lock, and pulled out a tube, tugging the cap off. After a liberal amount had been squeezed onto the fingers of her left hand, she used her right to tug on the fastenings of his shirt. He jerked away suddenly, something he found odd concidering all the times he had let a girl as pretty as she do just that to him without worrying, and she pulled away from him quickly, darting her hand away from him like she had been burned, before smiling impishly at him and continued with her tugging. _

_He opened his mouth to protest- once again, a new experience for him in this situation- and she let out a loud laugh, and said cheerfully, "Don't be such a child, I'm just stopping yopu from dripping blood on the floor. It's dirty enough as it is. Besides, that looks damned painful." _

_She finally managed to yank off his jacket and shirt, ignoring the dubmfounded look on his face. For someone blessed with an amazing physique and beautiful voice, it seemed strange to have such a laugh come from her mouth. It was loud, and deep, and sounded more like the sort of chuckle that escapes from the lips of middle aged men. Her eyes were still empty and plain, the grin and the giggles doing nothing to drive away the awful silence of her eyes. So put of by her laughter, he unwittingly allowed her to remove the clothing from his upper body, and start slathering the clear, thick gel on his side._

_He hissed slightly, pain flaring in him when her fingers touched the sensitive, punctured flesh, and felt the pain melt into a dull thump. He could almost feel the injury closing, his skin tingling around the deep, painful laceration. After a few minutes of her rubbing the gel into him, she finally pulled away from him, grabbing the damp cloth from the side table and wiping away the blood and goo from her small hand, smiling in satisfaction. He hesitantly glanced down, still trying not to make contact with his sore hip, and saw that his flesh had healed well._

_"You could have used kolto, you know. The cheap stuff stings like crazy when you apply it to an injury." he said grumpily, shifting uncomfortably. The girl shook her head, the small, sweet little frown returning to her face. _

_"You're kidding, right? Nar Shaddaa hospitals are too damn cheap to use anything other than dermal gel."_

_"Yeah, but it only covers up scaring for about a day- after that you have to re-apply it to cover up the ugly frackin' scars you're going to be stuck with the rest of your days."_

_She shrugged. "From what I saw, you already have your fair share of scarring, so how is a few more going to hurt you?" She reached out with a long finger and traced a long mark that went from his shoulder and continued down to the waistband of his brown leather pamts. He shifted again, but it was a movement of awkwardness more than anything else. Again, another thing to add to the list of new experiences that he had gone through today. They sat their in a comfortable silence, her hand still vagely tracing the scars on his torso while he did all he could to keep from fidgeting. _

_"So how did you get these, anyway?" she inquired suddenly, placing her cool hand against his flesh. _

_"Oh... the war. I fought in the Mandalorian war." he said, trying to sound casual. It was a partial truth, after all; many of these scars he had gained during the initial battles with the Mandalorians, before he was transfered, thankfully, to Red team, a group of elite fighter pilots._

_She nodded slowly, and waved her arms around a little, a sad smile on her face and showing Jaq the pale lines and scars on her forearms and wrists. _

_"Funny, me too. Finally, something we have in common."_

_"Besides a knack for getting shot at wherever we go."_

_"Besides that, of course." she smiled at him again, and he saw her attempting to stiffle a yawn. He noticed, however, and smiled slightly, pushing her gently into her pillow. She protested sleepily, trying to push him away, but she was still sore and visibly exhausted._

_She relented, though, and allowed him to push her back into her pillow, her eyes dropping slightly. She gave him a light punch on the shoulder, and mumbled, "You know, for a spacer I only met ten minutes ago, you're being suprisingly nice to me. Why is that?"_

_He lifted his gloved hands in the air, shrugging as he did so. "I dunno. Maybe it's 'cause you're a vet like me, maybe 'cause I think you need a friend right now... hell, maybe I just want to score with you." he said, grinning at her. She hit him again, before sitting up, propping herself up on her elbowes, mirroring his grin._

_"Look, you were right about the friend thing. I just got here, and, to be honest, I'd like a bit of company. Could you... come and visit me, or something?" she asked hesitantly, and he raised an eyebrow. The girls eyes widened, and she shook her head slightly. "But it's okay, if you're busy or something, you don't... you don't _have _to come see me, it's just something I might like..." she trailed away, managing to look both ashamed and disappointed at the same time._

_"No, no, it's alright. I was planning to come and see you anyway... it's no trouble." He placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, before turning around and taking a step towards the door, before something occured to him._

_"Hey, can I ask you something?"  
_

_"Yeah, sure. What is it?"  
_

_"What's your name?"_

_Another frown, but somehow it wasn't imposing, or even harsh. But it faded after a few seconds. "It's Lillia. Just Lillia. Yours?"_

_He nearly forgot himself, and was on the verge of saying Jaq, before he remembered what he had told the ebony-haired doctor outside. "It's Atton. Just Atton." _

When Lillia had thought that the loud silence had finally been broken, she had assumed a great many things. One of her assumptions would be that there would be some form of emotional outburst from the pilot- anger, irritation, hurt, _something._ But that had been nearly half an hour ago. And all he had done was stare at her hip where the deep indentations in her skin still remained after so many years while she stood in front of him, looking at her feet like a small child caught theiving candy.

"So..." he said, speaking for the first time in thirty minutes. His voice had a falsly casual, cheery quality to it, the same tones he would use when digging for infomation while attempting to control his rage. "So... what I'm actually interested in was how you managed to hide it from me for nearly a year. I mean, clothes would hide the scars during the day, but what about-"

"Dermal gel." she said simply, lifting her head to look him in the eye. He had a small, fake, dangerous smile on his face, but her gaze didn't falter. "It covers scars, and can be easily applied. It's commonly found on Nar Shaddaa, and was incredibly cheap."

"Ah... I suppose that explains why you always woke up before me... you were rubbing yourself with some foul gel so you could keep lying to me. But why not just get a skin graft or something? Just wondering..."

"A skin graft is too obvious, and I had enough lies to try and remember without having to make something up as to why I have one." She continued to keep her voice as calm as possible, but her insides were boiling with anger. What about all the things he had kept from her? Since when did he have the right to whine about something like this after what had happened seven years ago. Force only knew what he was keeping from her, what lies he had spun, what secrets from his murky past he was keeping from her?

He stood suddenly, his eyes flashing, and she felt that she had crossed some kind of invisible line. He took a step towards her, forcing her backwards a little, and she took a deep breath, realising far too late that she had just handed over an entire case of new ammo for him to use against her.

"So while we're laying everything on the table, anything else you'd like to tell me?" he asked in a low voice, and the furious knot in her stomach tightened painfully.

"Well, I think it's time to tell you my darkest secret." she said, her eyes widening in a fake look of worry and sincerity. He crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly unsure as to weither or not she was being serious or if she was trying to irritate him.

"Im actually not a red-head. I hope this doesn't damage our friendship." she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she clutched her hands to her chest, looking at him with a mixture of pity and fake sadness. He made a small noise of irritation, uncoiling his arms from in front of him and trowing them up in the air, frustration riddling his features.

They were silent again for several seconds, until she felt her rage fade with his. She took a few steps towards Atton, dodging the chair he had just abandoned, until she was standing directly behind him. She could feel everything that was pouring off of him through her newly revitalised link to the Force, and placed a small hand on his shoulder. To her surprise he didn't shrug it off or try and walk away from her, and she was grateful that he was at least going to listen to her.

"I'm truly sorry for not telling you, I really am." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He let a small, disbelieving laugh escape him, and she ignored it, plowing on. "I wanted to tell you so many times, but I knew you distrusted my kind, and I didn't want to lose a friend."

"We were more than friends, Johnson." he said, his voice just as quiet as hers, and turned to face her. There was no trace of sarcasm, bitterness or false carelessness on his face, just seriousness and a real pain, and Lillia felt a pang of regret stir in her stomach where her anger at the pilot was previously nestled. "You want to know why I'm so pissed off at you? Not because you're a Jedi- I could have moved past it for you- but because in the eleven months we spent together, you lied to my face every day." She opened her mouth, about to interupt, but he raised a hand to silence her. "You could have said something..." he trailed off, and he sighed slightly. "Or I should have figured it out."

"You really want to know why I didn't tell you?" she said suddenly, now that he was finished. "Because I'm an Exile, Atton. I couldn't feel the Force then and I can barely feel it now." She gave a deep breath, and took a step backwards, adding some much needed distance between them. "I didn't tell you because technically, I really wasn't a Jedi anymore. I'm definatly not one now. I went to Nar Shaddaa to leave the past behind. I wasn't about to ruin the only good thing that happened to me for years slip from my fingers."

And to her great surprise, he gave a small nod, and sighed again. "I can understand that."

She tilted her head questioningly. "You can?"

"You wern't the only person that was running from the past at the time."

She was on the verge of asking his what he meant, but caught herself just in time; she wasn't going to ruin this moment with questions about a past he clearly didn't want to talk about. Instead she settled with a quiet "Thank you."

"Anytime." he said, and reached out, clapping her on the shoulder quickly before drawing away, turning his back to her once again. She moved a little to her right, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression. Finally, after brooding quietly for a few moments, he turned around to face her, and she sighed with relief inwardly when he walked past her, leaning backwards and supporting himself on the console, and motioning her to join him. She lifted herself up onto the security console, manuvouring to sit comfortably next him, and he turned to face her, a small smile flickering onto his lips before dying.

"I guess now all we have to do is starve to death." he said, a sarcastic and false pleasantness in his voice, and she chuckled dryly. She looked at him with the shadow of a grin on her face, and punched his arm, in exactly the same spot she had hit him years earlier.

"Pessimist." she muttered, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a slight smile. He turned and lifted his arm, pegging her in the shoulder in the spot she had just hit him. "Optimist." he shot back at her, a mocking smirk rising on his face.

She was about to respond when their makeshift bench beeped and they heard the distant noise of a turbolift door opening. They both slid down of the console and got to work planning their escape. Things were still left unsaid, and neither person had been completely forgiven for their past sins, but for now, it would have to do.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: This isn't very good, but I like to think I'm improving every chapter. I love reviews and feedback, and adore critiques, so feel free to drop me a line. Things will go back to normal between Lillia and Atton by next chapter- the lust, the banter, and the angst- but at least they let go of some emotional baggage go in this chapter. And at least the punches are friendly, playful ones. They both seem to be a little more mellow and heart-felt in this part, but it's a very emotional moment. I was just trying to get it right. They'll be their usual crusty selves by next chappie. Sorry for any and all typos/ grammatical errors, but I have no spell check at the moment. Thank you to all of my reviewers as usual, as they are the people who are giving everyone updates and chapters. The more reviews I get, the faster I write. Just telling you now.

Anyway, everyone enjoy the holiday season, and consider this my present to you all. Crappy present that it is. It's like getting socks and undies from you're granny. Not nessesarily what you wanted, but you'll pretend you love them for granny's sake. :)


	5. Chapter 5: You Grew On Me

**You Grew On Me**

_It had been a long time since Jaq had fallen into any kind of routine. Even when he was with the Sith, he often had to leave to capture or kill a Jedi, high-up soldier from the Republic (and sometimes in special cases, a Sith traitor) or a senator that was causing problems for Revan or her forces. And when he was stationed at one of their many space stations or reclusive bases, he was often left to torture or extract infomation from prisoners at his own pace, during his own time. _

_But he had developed a routine during his time on the Smugglers moon. After heaving his exhausted body out of his bunk on the small, stolen freighter that was now his residence to his tiny 'fresher to deal with the conceqences of the previous nights activities, the former Jedi killer would remember his promise to see Lillia and drag himself to the medical center where she was still recovering. Apparently his earlier assessment of her injuries was wrong; her lung had been punctured, a blade sliding between her ribs. It was the reason of her slow recovery, and her long stint in a dingy hospital room._

_Each time he stumbled groggily up to her room on the third floor, he would sound the small, irritating chime to signal his arrival, and her cheerful, musical voice would invite him in to the slightly rank, blood scented room. After the usual round of greetings he'd collapse into the rickety chair next to her bed, rubbing his eyes to remove the grit and sleep dust that was blocking his vision while she lectured him good-naturedly on his drinking habits. _

_"Seriously, you have to stop binging like you do. I can't have you hauling that drunken walking corpse you call a body up here in the middle of the morning and watch you trying not to puke. Last night you stumbled up here naked and crying about a pet gizka that died when you were twelve with a girl wearing nothing but three hankies hanging of your arm. For crying out loud, mate, kids come here." She patted him on the shoulder lightly as he swallowed harshly to keep from emptying the contents of his stomach on her. _

_After a few seconds of deep breathing, he reluctantly lifted his head to let his eyes rest on her amused, if not stern, expression. "That happened again, huh?"_

_She gave a small bark of laughter, and shook her head. "No, I'm just kidding, just another example of my bad sense of humour- wait, that's actually happened before?" she asked, grinning at him impishly. He snorted, and muttered, "Forget it, you don't want to know," before sitting up completely and chucking a badly wrapped package that he seemed to pull out of nowhere at her. She caught it without flinching, a curious look on her face._

_"You didn't have to get me anything..." she said, blushing furiously. He waved his hand airily, and said casually as he propped his legs up on the end of her bed, "It's nothing, just something to make sure you don't end up in here again."_

_She sent a look of amusment at him, before ripping of the crumpled black paper from whatever he had just given her. The job didn't take long- it looked like it had been wrapped by a six- year old, and the look on Lillia's face mirrored that age perfectly. Jaq smiled at her, the sight reminding him of when he was a kid, watching his baby sister open a present for her birthday. The small grin faded when he recalled that his sister was long dead by now, as far away as the memories of the day she turned four._

_She freed the item inside, pulling it out from the reminants of the paper, half-smiling, half-frowning as she held a dark black jacket in her small hands. It looked, after peering at it for a few moments, extreamly well made, obviously one of the more expensive ones on the market, durable and tough, and from the looks of things, was nearly exactly her size, though a little big. She ran her fingers over the tough leather, drexl, she guessed, from it's weight and texture. She grinned at him, pulling it close to her chest. _

_"Wow, a sexy new jacket. Feel free to sleep with me now."_

_He jabbed at her ribs gently, and sat up, letting his legs fall from her bed and leaning forward slightly. "Don't mock it just yet. It's tough, and it's designed to act as a piece of light armour. So if you do end up in another fist fight, it'll add some protection."_

_She nodded, and ran her hand over the garment again. "Thank you. Really, it isn't bad." She lifted it up to inspect it further, before twirling it behind her to rest it on her shoulders, allowing her arms to slide into the sleeves. It covered her wrists, but went no further, and smiled again. "It's actually really comfortable. Yeah... I can see this growing on me." _

_And then she did something totally unexpected. After scattering the paper he had used to wrap her gift with her legs, she edged closer to him and pulled him into a tight hug. For a few seconds, he merely scowled, uncomfortable with the sudden contact, before clumsily patter her on the back. He wasn't used to this kind of contact with anyone, he couldn't even remember when someone had held him like this, just as a friend, or a family member. _

_She pullled away from him, watching as Jaq shifed awkwardly, and folded his arms in front of him. She looked ashamed of herself, and began to stare at her fegs stretched out in front of her, and for some strange reason, he found himself fighting the urge to start laughing. A small spluttering chuckle managed to escape his lips, and she looked up, a brief flash of annoyance flickering and dying on her face as he finally lost what shreads of control he had been clinging to and began to laugh like a madman.  
_

_"Wha... what's so funny?" she muttered curiously, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, looking all of a sudden defensive. His chuckles were dying down, and he managed to choke out, "You looked like my brother then... he had this friend he was pretty crazy about when he was a teen... he used to look like that everytime he touched her... like he was doing something illegal, or something..."_

_She raised a deliacte eyebrow at him, before speaking in clipped tones, "Are you implying that I 'like' you?" He looked at her, still smirking a little, and said slyly, "I may be implying something along those lines."_

_She let out a small gasping laugh as she tightened the grip she had on herself, looking like she wanted nothing more than to sink down into the covers and hide from his penertrating gaze. He leant forward until his warm breath was ghosting over the soft skin of her cheeks, and muttered lascivously, "I don't blame you- it's not easy to resist someone like me."_

_She pulled back, swallowing visbly, and settled into the pillows that were arranged on the headboard for her comfort. "Actually, I find it's easier than you may think." she whispered sweetly, all trace of edginess gone from her face to be replaced with a scathing look. " You do know you're about as subtle as a brick between the ears, right? Honestly, mate, you aren't that atractive..."_

_He opened his mouth to give her some sort of snippy, clever reply, but in an unchacteristic show of humility and intelligence, he chose to discontinue that particular conversation- after getting to know her over the past week, he had come to realise that arguing with her, though highly enjoyable, was completely pointless- she would win no matter what he said. She reached out and patted his hand a little- he realised he must have looked quite disappointed or something to that extent- and grinned at him sypathetically. "That's not like I'm saying you look like something a person would find in a dump of anything... you just remind me of my brother, or something. I guess thats why..." She shook her head and shrugged. _

_He leant back in his chair, suddenly curious. "You have a brother?"_

_She nodded, letting her knitted arms unwind from each other, and allowing them to drop down to sit on her lap. "Yep. And two sisters. I'm a triplet."_

_"Huh. What are their names?"_

_"My younger sister's name was Sheyna, and my brother was Joram."_

_"And the other sister?" Suprisingly, Jaq found he was genuinely interested in this small trivial piece of infomation. The small voice in the back of his mind that he had chosen to ignore in the recent week was trying to get his attention, the sense of inquisitivness overwhelming his sense of caution, the one that informed him that something big and bad was on it's way. It was the latter he should have listened to. Lillia was avoiding his eyes all of a sudden, and that alone should have been enough to send alarm bells sounding- she was nothing if not honest at all times, a stark parallell with himself._

_"She is, actually... well, Revan."_

_He nearly choked on his own spit. The easiness of the conversation had ended, and she met his wary gaze hesitantly. "You're joking... right? This is just another bad joke..."_

_"No. It's no joke, actually. I know... it's a bit of a shock... but, um-"_

_He let out a low breath, but inside his stomach was twisting. This was completely insane. He'd just spent months of his life trying to escape from that woman, and now he was chatting cordially to her triplet? What was _wrong_ with him!?_

_She looked away for a moment, before looking back at him, her face neutral. "You do know i haven't seen her in years, right?" she said gently. He flinched slightly when her cold hand touched his face, cupping his cheek and guiding his face so that he was looking her in the eye as she continued. "Look, no-one from my family go around promoting the fact that we knew the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and to be honest I'm ashamed to share the same blood as that girl, but to be honest, the girl that shared her existance with me for all those years died years ago during the Mandalorian War."_

_He tried to look away, but the bright emerald of her eyes refused to allow him to break his gaze. For the first time since her had met her, they were finally expressing an emotion: a terrible sadness. He nodded slightly, and she removed her hand._

_"Please don't hate me for what she did- we may look the same, but we're different. Really different." He nodded again, his mind still reeling, and she clutched his hand once more, and said in falsely cheery tones, "Oh well, shit happens. I lost my sister and my brother to the same war, and force only knows where my sister is now. She's probably dead by now. She's a Jedi as well, you see. And, ah, not a very good one-" Her voice broke suddenly, ending in a small sqeaking sound deep in her throat, and she whimpered slightly. He saw her bottom lip quiver before she looked away, and her slender frame began to shake as it racked with sobs. _

_Jaq paused before he moved- he had never been very good with crying women- but stood, and manouvered so that he was sitting on the gap on her bed next to her, his legs dangling over the side of the mattress and his body twisting so that he awkwardly had his left arm around her shuddering shoulders. She began to cry harder, like she was allowing years worth of sorrow and anger to escape from her in the form of tears and mucus. For several minutes, they sat there while she tried to control her breathing, the air she inhaled entering her in small hiccups. She sat up eventually, wiping her eyes, and grabbing the same cloth that had been sitting on her bed side table to clean herself of with._

_She mopped her cheeks until the moisture was absorbed, wet snuffly sounds coming from deep in her throat. "I'm sorry, that was so pathetic." she whispered hoarsly, sitting up- he had just discovered she had let her head drop against his chest, her tears creating a small wet stain on his shirt._

_"It's fine." he muttered gruffly, and removed the arm that was still draped around her. They sat in a quiet thoughtfulness before she shifted next to him, and turned her head to stare at him before settling against his shoulder comfortably._

_"So..." she said with an air that clearly indicated that they were never again to discuss what had just occured, "How many siblings did you have? Besides your brother..."_

_"Oh, I had a couple. Three sisters, four brothers. It got a little crowded at my place..." he said, lifting his legs onto the bed to stop everything from his waist down from cramping._

_"'Had' sisters and brothers, past tense? What happened?" she sat up to look him in the eye, her stare watery and still slightly tearful. He let out a deep sigh, and lifted his hands to count them off on his his fingers. "Sheri died when she was seven- speeder accident." He curled one finger down. "Dak was killed by my mum- she was drunk and on spice and lost control." He curled another finger down as her eyes widened slightly. "Tala, Jastin and Corus were all older than me- they joined the Republic military forces and bit the dust in battle." He clenched he left fist tightly, before_

_bringing it down onto his knee sharply._

_"And you're other sister? You said you had three."_

_"I have no clue. Jadzia left, after my mum died. It just me and my dad for a while." He started to fiddle with the bedding a little, an act like that typically expressed to people that he would prefere to end this conversation, but Lillia was either tactless or unaware of this universal sign of discomfort, because she continued with her line of questioning. "How did your mother die, then?"_

_"Too many pills mixed with too much spice and juma." He felt his face heat slightly, not out of anger but out of embarrassment. Juma and drugs. That's all it had taken to kill her. It was pathetic to him. She could have at least died with a little more dignity. Although, he did wish that he'd known that of those were ingredients he could have used to rid himself of the old shutta. It would have saved him alot of trouble when he was a kid. And scars._

_Mercifully, she chose to remain silent, cottoning on to the fact that he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and watched his fingers picking at a hole in her sheet while she relaxed against him. He could hear her small, slightly laboured inhaling, and her small movements on his chest. The thing was, there was... nothing. It felt nice, easy. And completely normal. He lifted his arm to slip it around her shoulders once more, and tugged her closer slightly. He smiled into her hair a little, and muttered, "I remind you of your _brother? _You have got to be kidding me..."_

_"Hey, I was really close to my brother, consider it a compiment. He would have liked you, ya know." She grinned up at him, bright and earnest, and Jaq saw how much better she was looking. Her skin, which had been pale white and almost translucent a week earlier, had some colour returning to it, like some of the scarlet red from her hair had bled into her face. If he was truly honest with himself, she had looked quite awful, almost wraith-like when they had met, her beauty masked by blood and fatigue. But as the days passed, the healthier she looked, the lovelier she became. _

_He swallowed slightly when she continued to stare at him, the smile growing a little. The strange, almost irresistible urge to pull her closer was growing with every minute he spent here with her, but he was burrying it along with the voice in his head that was becoming increasingly annoying. _

_From what he had managed to observe of her over the last week from her interactions with the ebony-haired doctor who's name he had discovered recently was Ezri that came to check to treat her with kolto, as boundlessly friendly as she was, she had some trouble with talking to people about things. Even if they were just asking how she felt. He wasn't going to overstep his boundries by trying to make a pass at her now, especially as she had just started to really trust him- if it was hard to tell her about his family, it must have been equally, if not more difficult to tell him, judjing from the tears. Jaq couldn't help but mentally hit himself as he thought about it- he was starting to go soft over a twenty-five year old woman with a bad sense of humour and a scary, murderous sister that had stolen six years of his life. But it was odd... for now, he was satisfied with burrying his face in her soft, chemical-scented tresses, and sitting with her. _

_For some unknown reason, she began to laugh, that loud, joyful, deep laugh that was only heard when she clearly couldn't hold back. "What's so funny?" he echoed her previous words as Lillia collapsed into uncontrolable giggles._

_"Dammit, you tickling me, you prick!" she choked out in between laughing, tears streaming out of her eyes. He looked down to find that his arm was now looped around her waist, with his hand drifting over the bare strip of skin where her blouse and hospital-issue pants seperated, fingers skidding over her skin. He was unknowingly stroking her stomach just enough to make her squirm. Suddenly gleeful, he continued allowing his fingers to shadow over her scarred flesh, and her mirth was taking over her senses. She wriggled to try and free herself from his grasp, but her merriment was weakening her, and despite her physical strength, he was keeping her in place with his arm. He supposed that only real reason he was putting her through this torture was just to hear her laugh._

_She was really starting to grow on him. _

_____________________________________________________________________________ _

Lillia was really starting to hate Peragus. It wasn't the intense heat that was bothering her, or the disapproving looks and coldness of Kriea that was the problem. It wasn't even the hoards of Sith hunting them, or the bodies surrounding her almost constantly. It was Atton staring at her from behind as the trio fought their way to the crew quarters of the Harbinger. He'd nearly taken a sharp, fatal hit to the side because he'd gotten distracted watching her slicing an assassin's chest. Although she did remember a time when she had enjoyed his glances. But in the middle of combat, six years after he'd crushed and left her, it was unwelcome attention.

It was odd, though, she mused as she drove a vibroblade through another sith's arm while Atton sent a blaster shot at his back, that after all these years, after all they went through, he still felt the need to ogle her. It would have been almost amusing, thinking about all the times he had seen her wearing less than her skivies- or at least it would be if he wasn't an irritating pervert.

Turning sharply to avoid a vibroblade driving into her waist and kicking the nearest foe in the back, a small grunt sounded in her throat as she felt a sharp blow to the base of her skull. After a few seconds of seeing bright stars cross her vision, she felt her knees buckle as the black quaterstaff one of her attackers was wielding connected with her lower back. She heard a shot, and felt the large opponent collapse on top of him, his weight adding to the throbbing pain eminating from her back and head. She lifted herself on her arms, the still warm body on top of her sliding to the ground. A hand grasped her upper arm in a pincer-like grip, yanking her to her feet roughly, so that she was face-to-face with Atton, a small smirk playing on his mouth.

"Are alright?" he asked, brushing her hair away from the back of neck, onto her right shoulder to inspect the small lump that was growing on the conjuction of her head, neck and shoulder, using his hand on her arm to turn her around. She pulled herself from his firm grasp, mumbling "I'm fine." to him before moving away, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor. He hurried to walk next to her, catious worry swiftly hidden in his eyes.

"You sure? It's be a real shame to damage something as fine as that." He grinned lecherously, letting his eyes run over her body again, pausing briefly at her chest. She let out a small noice of disgust in response, adding to her speed slightly. This, of course, meant that she didn't see the concern flash across his face when he saw her stumble a little, leaning against the wall for a moment of support, so fast that anyone who didn't know him would have missed it entirely.

They were making their way towards the crew quarters, the old woman and the scoundrel still keeping a watchful eye on the resident Exile, before she stopped suddenly, and turned to glare at a nearby door.

"What is it?" Kreia's voice alerted her to the presence of two others in the small inclosed space.

"I just need a moment to collect a few things- this was my room." She ignored Kreia's urging to hurry, and Atton's questions, hurrying in to her small, snug quaters. After rumaging around her footlocker and retreiving the only two items of real value to her, she shrugged on the change of clothes she found in the cylinder near her bed, strolling out to the other two and thanking the force itself she could get out of the tight, uncomfortable mining uniform.

She tried to ignore the slightly surprised look on his face at her attire, but she chose to ignore him for at least a few minutes, if only to keep the last threads of sanity tied to her. He was relentless, though, and hastened his steps to catch up to her.

"You still have it," he muttered into her ear as he gestured at the leather jacket she had tightly fastened to her. She pulled it around her mid-section tighter, defensively.

"It comfortable, and it's saved my life more than once. i wasn't going to throw something like that out just because you're pissed at someone."

"Okay then, why did you keep the armband, then?" He tapped the bulge in her sleeve where the red and gold jewelled band was coiled around her arm snugly, like a ruby hand hugging her.

She shrugged, her cheekbones reddening a little. "For a slimy, annoying, perverted, disgusting-"

"Okay, that's enough." He put on a fake hurt expression, but she talked over him.

"- rude, snarky cynical _pest," _she added extra emphasis on the last word and he opened his mouth to comment before she silenced him once more with her words, "you have damned good taste in jewellry."

"Well... thanks, I guess." He tried not to look too happy with himself, and she fought the urge to grin at the tiny look of triumph on his face that was peaking through the usual clouds of carelessness. He really did remind her of her brother when she complimented him, and the old, familiar pang of regret and loss echoing inside her, with her stomach feeling like she had left it behind in her room.

____________________________________________________________________________

She was still thinking about Joram when she programmed in the hyperspace route into the Ebon Hawk's navi-computer. Atton had already staked the cockpit out as his own personal space while a wounded Kreia had retreated to the quiet of the port dormitory, keeping her dignity as she walking imperiously out of the scoundrel's new domain. After several painful minutes of forced, if not informative, conversation with her new master, Lillia had forced herself towards the cockpit to spend some time with the man she had so kindly defended.

"So, how is our passanger, still aging?" he asked as she quietly slipped into the tight space behind the pilot's chair.

She gave a weak sigh. "Cryptic as always. You know, for someone with so little to say, she really says a lot."

He turned a little in his seat, and grinned. "I'll bet. What do you think you looked like before the wrinkles? For all we know she might have been attractive once. Hell, she could have looked like you."

All she could do was snort in response at the insane idea that Kreia may have, once upon a darker time, resembled the red-head. "You really did take a hit while I wasn't looking out for you, didn't you? Good Looking? That wrinkled... _thing _in there?"

"Hey, I was just busted out of prison by my ex-girlfriend. If it was up to me, we'd be jumping out of hyperspace at the Nar Shaddaa Red Sector, or Ryloth."

"I'm suprised you still have a taste for the smugglers moon after you and me."

He leant back in his chair, counting the ridges on the ceiling and crossing his legs and arms in front of him. "Just because I dated a snarky, irritating disturbed girl that, for all her spunk and fire, was colder than Hoth doesn't mean I wasn't going to dump the whole damned moon."

For once, Lillia had absolutly nothing to say to him, instead tapping her fingers on the wall she was leaning on for a moment and heading over to take a seat in the leather chair next to the metal panel that seperated the co-pilot and pilot stations. He swung his seat around to face her again, the small frown on her face just as sweet as it was seven years earlier.

He pulled his pazaak deck from his jacket pocket and waved them vagely at her. She merely nodded, taking her own cards, just as battered and well-used as his, built from spares he'd won of various opponents when they were together earlier in their lives. After playing ten rounds in silence, he chucked his hand down, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"So... really, what did you do after we seperated?" He lifted his hands to knit his fingers together behind his head. She mirrored him, throwing her cards down as well, lifting one of her legs to rest on the console their pazaak cards were discarded on.

"Well, I wasn't lying when I said that I went looking for you."

"Really? Missed me that much, huh?"

"Nope, I wanted to kill you slowly and painfully." She smiled at him, a frighteningly sugary-sweetness to it.

"Ouch, and to think you have such a pretty face. But there is indeed a baaaad wittle cartoon girl within the innocent angel everyone thinks you are. Aren't Jedi supposed to be good and pure?" He lifted his legs to cross them on the console next to hers, yawning a little.

She scowled at him again, resting her head on her palm, letting her elbow sit on the armrest of the co-pilots seat. You forget, I'm not a Jedi anymore." She seemed to be scrutinising him carefully, and the muscles in the vacinity of her mouth twitched upwards.

"What about you? What did you do after you left me?"

"I thought we quietly agreed we left each other?"

"I don't remember saying that." She raised an eyebrow at him, tapping her fingers on the armrest.

"Fine. After I left you, I started working for the Exchange for a while."

"Why? They're a bunch a thugs trying to parcel the galaxy up like a corellian chocolate cake."

He shrugged a little, flicking his head to the right to remove the fringe from his eyes. Unfortunately, his unruly hair flopped back over his eyes, causing him to grunt if frustration and push it back again.

"To be honest, I was bored. Besides, great way to meet people."

She stared, then grinned. "Oh Force. This is classic."

"What?"

"You took that job... because you were looking for me, too! Aw, that's so sweet I might be sick."

"Heh." he siad sharply. He looked almost insulted. "I was not-"

"Oh, yes you were, admit it."

"Make me."

"You do know Jedi can read minds, right? I can just pull the answer out of you."

His eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't... would you?" He suddenly looked unsure.

She just turned towards the front, watching the swirling blue of hyperspace as he stared, slack-jawed at the ex-jedi lounging inher seat in front of him. He eventually turned towards the transparasteel window in front of him, smirking a little again.

"I am never letting my guard down around you again."

"Noted."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, to see she was smiling thinly, her eyes drifting closed. She streched sleepily, and yawned.

"If you really think I'm a cynical, snarky jerk, why did you stick with me for so long?" It was a valid question, once he thought about it. She

"What can I say? You're damn charming when you want to be. You grew on me."

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AN: Wow, another chapter already. I just realised that if I actually sit down and concerntrate for an hour or two, I can write quite fast. Anyway, I just hope this isn't too bad- it's mostly banter between Atton and Lillia, and a lot of fluff before the angst peaks again.

Thanks again to my reviewers- you really do make my day.

I'm glad someone picked up on that 'without a fight' thing back in chapter 2. There is a reason Lillia didn't try to fight back. First of all, she didn't really try much to fight- she's kinda depressed at the time, and didn't really want to fight. Second, she's not used to fighting without the force- she's only been exiled for about 16 months, and hadn't been in a lot of combat situations. Third, I did say that Atton didn't move for like five minutes, so she did try and fight for a few minutes before she had the crap bashed out of her. Hope that cleared things up for all of you who were wondering.

R&R, and I'll love you forever. Hell, I'll travel all the way from Australia just to give you a hug. Until next chapter. Sorry for any and all errors- they are all mine. No spell check. Sorry.

PS. Jadzia was a reference to a Deep Space Nine character that dies in the next-to-last season. I really liked her, and thought the world suffered a great injustice when she was killed off. So I did what I could and named a character after her. Ezri is the woman that replaced Jadzia in the series for the last few episodes. Yep, I'm a die-hard trekkie. Feel free to tease me about it.


	6. Chapter 6: The voices in your head

_He was beginning to watch news broadcasted over the holonet whenever there was an update concerning the Civil War. He had become obsessed with news concerning the war effort, every death, every battle lost and every world destroyed or ravaged. He quietly celebrated every Jedi's death, despite his days of killing and converting long behind him. Each day, the reports grew more dire, with Revan and Malak countering every weak effort that the Republic made against them. The core worlds were now defended with a selfish amount of forces, while hundreds of the planets closer to the rim were falling. Revan was starting to break the Republics defenses, and her ships were washing over the opposition like water washing over sand on a beach. Ocassionally, the tides would turn and a victory would be seized by the struggling Republic fleet, but would be forgotten with days as the strategies used by the Sith became more effective._

_Every report was punctuated with and odd jolt in the regions of his stomach whenever Revan's name was mentioned. The frequency of her focus in these broadcasts left him feeling ill and tense, and were fast making sleep impossible as memories of his time in her fleet returned with a sudden harshness. Each day had been filled with another round of torture, tracking, infomation gathering, and brutal killings, always ending with the usual request to meet the Dark Lord in an abandonned crew quarters in a remote part of the ship or base the two were stationed at. It had become a sort of tradition between the two. Every few days, he would be transfered to a space station or ship to break a Jedi, and she would make a point of visitng his location. Sometimes it was under the pretense to have a particularly resistant or important Jedi master turned over to her for some more direct conversion, or because her own ship was in need of repairs and she required a temporary substitute. But whatever her reasons, there was always a message from her waiting for him on his computer when he returned to his room at the end of his shift or when his work on a prisoner had been completed. It was with such frequency he could have recited the message from memory._

_Even now, those nights as long gone as his day as a killer, his focus was still on her appearance. Despite their many personal encounters, the one remaining thought he constantly had about her was her face. Not out of sentimentality, or out of longing, but because of his curiosity. It was always covered by a mask, or veil, or hood, and when they were removed, she woyuld bypass his mental blocks ad defences as easily as if they wern't even there, and alter his perseptions of her, making her facial features garbled and fuzzy. There had been brief moments when his will power would fight her menatl assult, much to her amusement, and he would catch a small glimpse of her face before she would screw with his mind again, wiping his memory of their encounter and leaving him confused and irritated that he hadn't fought harder. _

_Since the moment Lillia had mentioned her family, the thoughts of Revan had increased, and he had begun to understand the womans motivations clearer than before, her reasons for the mask. She concealed her appearance not out of a need for her troops to fear her- they already din. Or because she was attempting to hide her gender, as many believed. It was because out of protection- concern for her flesh and blood, rather than herself. This, somehow, made her human to him, and made it easier not to hate either one of them._

_He had fallen back into his old habits, though. Only his target had changed. _

_He was finding it difficult to seperate the old Jaq from Atton. As Jaq, he found this to be some sort of game he was playing with a new toy, set up for his own amusement. His way of keeping entertained. The same techniques he had used to gain the trust of Jedi that Revan had wanted were being used now. If she mentioned something close and painful to her, he would nudge sympathy out of him, offering wors of comfor and displaying a tact that her knew he didn't really possess. If she threw a playful taunt or a joke out, he would give a sharp-tongued reply or a chuckle, and she would relax in his attendance, and enjoy his company. And if she voiced an opinion of a political movement or military stratergy implimented by one of the waring parties, he would strive to find interest in the subject, though it was not difficult, her talent for making mundane subjects like polittical science interesting._

_The longer he was with her, the more he realised that the game had ended long ago. What he was doing was no longer acting, it was the only way he knew how to act around others anymore. He found himself shamefully enjoying each visit, each conversation. It made him feel guilty, like he was only here because Jaq wanted to continue his little game for as long as possible, like he only enjoyed her company because of his ability to mould himself into a person she could like. And because he didn't want to leave, despite the feeling that he should._

_He was starting to become obsessed and dependent, possessive, leaving him feeling ashamed with himself again. He had begun to take over her kolto treatments, which were slowly decreasing in frequency and urgency. It had become part of the routine, walking into the place and waiting around for Ezri to show her face clutching a medpack. He tried to ignore the ever-present, questioning frown on her face as he prepared her injection- he had been given a harsh talking to about the clumsiness of his attentions by the nurse that looked after her the first day he'd arrived, and ended up getting a crash course in giving needles, much to Lillia's amusement- tried to force down the shame as he slid the pointed tip into her still sore, semi-healed wound, tried not to look sheepish as his fingers lingered for seconds longer then they should have._

_Obsession, as well as Fear and Guilt, were the only things he could feel properly. Guilt that Jaq was still lurking in the dark corners of his mind, whispering in his ear, telling him to stay until his game was finished and he had her right where he wanted her. Fear that any day now, Jaq was going to take over and kill again, or go crawling back to Revan. And of course, the thick coating of lust that blanketed it, and kept anything deeper well hidden from everyone. It was why he acted the way he did, why half the words that left him were attempts to sting or entice. At least when he was flirting, or with someone, anyone, he could pretend everything was peachy. It was all about hiding, all just a defence mechanism he'd created during the war. And old habits were hard to break once they are properly intergrated, like an addiction to spice. _

_It didn't stop her from asking him to return the next day each time he left in an evening. It was odd._

_He had also fallen into the habit of delivering bad news about the war effort to her- or at least, bad news about the Republic. Each day after the usual round of greetings, he'd hand over a datapad containing the names of downed ships, dead officers and Jedi, and captured bases and stations. After skiming the list, a small amount of quiet sadness would enter the air for a few moments, before one of them would make a horrible tasteless joke, they would give a small, heartless chuckle, and the day would go on. _

_And then the day came when he had to give the news Revan was dead._

_She didn't speak. She didn't even shed a tear._

_"You're taking this better than I thought you would." She was staring at her hands twisting together on her lap, her eyes unfocused and unblinking._

_"It's not much of a shock. I spent years hanging around the enclave where she was trained, listening in on lectures the master's gave on the Dark Side, and I knew Malak. I knew his style. And I knew that he would betray her eventually."_

_A thick, heavy silence hung in the air, each one of them consumed in their own thoughts. When he had left that evening, she still hadn't spoken much, just half-hearted replies to questions and comments- he had done most of the talking, or they had quietly sat together, enjoying the company of another. All in all, that had been the worst of his visits. _

_And after two months of hospital visits and something to look forward to each night, she was completely healed, and giving him the news that she was leaving for Corusant the next day. She was to start assisting in stratergies to help the Republic, her previous assosiation with Malak and her knowledge of tactics invaluble to them. He didn't sleep that night, instead sitting in the main hold of the stolen freighter that was his new home, on the small two-man couch, empty juma bottles littering the ground at his feet, slowly trying to drink himself into a stupor. It didn't work, and he ended up lying with his head pressed against the floor, legs slung upwards to rest on the seat, and blood rushing to his already pounding head. His stomach churned until the murky, smoggy sunrise flowed in through the transperasteel windows. Bright gold and green rays reflecting the chemicals in the air flashed over him as the supposedly bright orange and yellow orb rose over the buildings, hidden by polution and immense structures. Yellow and fluro green. People with iron and zinc deficiancies were going to feel awful for the rest of the day._

_All night he could think of nothing but how beautiful she was, how smart and sweet, how he had wasted two months on games and manipulation, trying to gain her trust so he could have his way with her. That all of it had been some pathetic game Jaq had created to keep himself happy and entertained, his skills sharpened, when all she wanted was a friend, someone to talk to. She'd helped him, in his own way, offered a chance to rid himself of some guilt, and of Jaq, and start over. She'd almost saved him, without even knowing it. But despite both their efforts, he was still lying in his ship, drinking his own weight in juma, and she was still walking away from him. He'd found a way to rid himself of her, and all it had taken was bad jokes, mild flirting, and some of his family history laid out on the table._

'Good going, Rand. It took two months and you've screwed up the only good thing to fall into your lap since you were five_' His mental voice returned with a vengence each time he drank heavily, and was becoming increasingly annoying, mentioning nearly every damn fact he was trying to ignore. He'd also started arguing with it. _

_"So? She was going to leave whatever I do." His voice was slightly slurred, and another empty bottle slid out of his limp fingers and onto the floor, smashing and stattering small pebble-like shards spraying him. One wedged in his arm, causing a small droplet of blood to dribble out and mingle with a small puddle of juma that had trickled out of one of his partially full bottles._

'But- c'mon, you can't lie to me. I'm you, only, apparently, I have more stones then you'll ever have.'

_"She's got a job with the Republic. It's important to her, I can't ask her to stay." He ended with a small hiccup, his head swirling as he opened yet another bottle of the dark red liquid and taking a large gulp of the near- flavourless drink._

'She can send them reports and tactics from here.' _his inner voice argued, _'This is getting sad_. _C'mon, mate, we're better then this.'

_He had no good response, so the tones echoing in his skull continued as he lifted his bottle up to his lips again._

'Why are you obsessed with her anyway?'

_"I dunno... I just like her." He spun around on the lower part of his back, twirling around so that he was resting his now sore back against the base of his couch, stretching his cramped legs in front of him and letting the tense muscles relax and un-knit. _

'Then do something, before she leaves.'_ the voice was impatient, he stood, stumbling a little as he walked towards the small 'fresher towards the port dorms. Once inside, he twisted the tiny taps until a decent flow of freezing cold water was gushing out of the thin opening in the wall. He scooped a small pool into his hands, splashing his face until the urge to vomit passed. He glanced up at the reflective square piece of metal on the wall that passed as a mirror, and cringed slightly at the pale, gaunt face staring back at him. A damp hand racked it's way through his tangled brown waves, and tried to look at least half human. _

_He strolled out to the main hold, and glanced at the small chrono lying on one of the consoles, trying not to scream with frustration as he realised that Lillia's transport was leaving in ten minutes. He had three choices: stay here and in self-pity, go say goodbye to her, or go find her and ask her to stay. When he thought about it, it wasn't a very hard decision._

_His jacket was lying discarded near the empties littered at his feet. He shrugging it on, making his way out of his ship, slowly, trying to stop his stomach churning. Of course, he was teetering towards mind- nimbingly drunk, and the juma was probably influencing him quite a lot. He was most likely going to wake up filled with regrets after he dragged himself back to his ship in a few hours. But if that did happen, he was going to let the fact he was intoxicated make him feel better about what could possibly be a fatal mistake._

_The air was wonderfully cold, his deep breathes filled with toxins that were making him feel worse by the second, but somehow helped clear his mind. There must be some kind of chemical in the air being filtered from a factory producing medicines. Fortunately for him, the transport leaving for the core worlds was docked near where he had taken up residence for the time being. He caught her just as she was joining the dozen other people desperate enough to book passage on a damaged, half- destroyed frieghter that was used to carry weapons and supplies._

_The idea of her crammed in it's cargo bay along with so many other people pressed against her she would hardly be able to breathe irked him to the bone, and he sped up until he was nearly breathing down her neck. With a firm hand clamped around her forearm, she was gently but forcibly tugged out of line by the pilot. She literally jumped when his hand grabbed his arm, and used her right hand to clumsily feel around her belt, where he was certain a blaster should have been hanging, but relaxed when she saw who was dragging her away from the loading ramp._

_"Atton, what are do- have you been drinking?"_

_"Well, I'm not drunk... this is completely of topic. I want you to stay here." He muttered: the frustrated-looking dockmaster seemed to be trying to listen in on what they were trying to say. She looked at him with pity etched on her face, and clasped his hand tightly. _

_"I can't, I have a job to do. Don't you see that the strategies I'd create for the Republic could save millions of lives? I was asked by Admiral Dodanna herself, for cryin' out loud!"_

_"So? That's what subspace transmitters were invented for!" he cried, a little more enthusiastic then he normally would have said it. She shook her head weakly, her small mouth opening as if she wanted to speak, and looking over his shoulder at the Rodian impatiently signaling to her that they were about to depart. She raised a finger, motioning them to wait for another minute, and he shrugged, a rattling sigh escaping his mouth as he turned his head towards into the shuttle, yelling in his own tongue for them to delay leaving. _

_"I don't have a reason to stay here though. At least on Corusant I can start fresh." She released his fingers, and turned away. He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him, and placed a hand on her hip, turning her around to face him. Using the fingers of his right hand, he hooked them under her chin and guided her face to look him straight in the eyes. She wiggled out of his grip a little, taking a step backwards and taking a deep inhalation._

_"You could just stay with me for a while... like I said when we first met, you seem like you could use some company." he said awkwardly, mentally telling himself to try and man up. He was never good at things like this, the words felt wrong in his mouth. He usually wasn't so tactful or honest. It felt strange. _

_She seemed to be seriously concidering his offer, while he prepared to hurl his sorry self back onto the couch of his ship and drink until tomorrow. She wasn't going stay, no matter what he said or did, and an uncomfortable feeling of embarrasment was clawing at his stomach. After what seemed like an hour of someone beating both the back and front of his head and kicking him in the gut, she made a small strangled moan in the back of her throat, like a gizka getting trodden on, and muttered, "I know I'm going to regret this tomorrow..."_

_He nodded once, and slipped his arm from it's pace on her hip, and grabbing a tight hold on her right hand, guiding her back to his ship. He looked sideways at her, taking her small smile, the way she kept chewing on the strand of hair that was being sucked into her mouth with every breath. Her shoulder-length ruby tresses were brushing over the collar of her jacket, and he had to clench his fingers into a tight fist to resist running his fingers through it, the muscles in the general area of his heart seemed to seize as she looped her arm through his. And it suddenly hit him hard why he was so intent on her staying with him, and it had absolutely nothing to with the gastly amount of tasteless red liquid he had consumed over the last few hours, or his need for company, or his idea that she could offer him some kind of redemption. He may- just may- actuallycare about another human being. _

_He stared at her so intently he bumped into a wall. As she used the arm tightly entwined with his to help him to his feet, a small tendril of something close to lust shot through him, starting at his arm and rippling along his skin and sinking deep into his bones. _

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Despite their arrest, Lillia found it nice just to get some rest, to let hours of tension and stress be released as the low sounds of Telos's Citadel Station lulled her to sleep like a gentle melody. The soft breathing of her companions were soothing after so long alone, and the thought of armed guards outside the door re-assured her that letting her guard down as she slept wasn't a foolish desision- she had become slightly paranoid after years of exile.

It seemed, however, that the galaxy had other ideas concerning her plan for hours of undisturbed sleep, for the moment her head touched the pillow, the comm system attatched to the wall sent out a small, irritatingly chirpy chime, jerking her out of her relaxed state. To her right, Atton woke, cursing slightly as he partially rolled of his bed in suprise, and Kreia looked indignant as her head snapped up from where it was lolling forward, her deep mediation broken.

The exiled jedi swung her weak, tired legs over the side of her bunk. A low groan escaped her as she rose on her sore feet, wincing as she stumbled sleepily over to the comunications console opposite her. After tapping a few commands and confirming to the female officer that she would accept the call, she was greeted by an Ithorian man named Moza, offering her a job. After agreeing to speak with the leader of the Ithorian restoration project, she returned to her bed, only to be woken five minutes later by yet another caller. At this point, her exhaustion combined with a sizable amount of frustration led to her ignoring the caller all together. That and the knowledge that she was being propsitioned by Czerka, a group she believed to be the blight of the galaxy.

But after so many interuptions, she found sleep and meditation near impossible, despite her body begging her for release and rest. But it seemed that her restlessness was reflected in Kreia as well. The old Jedi stood from her meditative position on the carpeted floor, and turned to face the Exile from where she was lounging on her bed. She raised a lazy hand and pointed towards their resident pilot, sleeping lightly on the bunk to her right, then touched her lips in a universal request for quiet. If they were to discuss anything, she would rather not voice anything in front of him. It hardly mattered- Kreia's tones were naturaly soft, it added to the malice.

"You have questions?"

"Yes and I need some answers. What are you? A jedi... or a Sith?"

The old woman stood at the foot of the Exile's bed, and Lillia straightened, staring at her where the plae milky depths of Kreia's eyes glowed in the dim lighting.

"Does it matter? Of course it does, such distinctions and titles allow you to catergorise the galaxy, split it into dark or light."

"Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as they are, as peices of a whole. Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough."

Lillia raised an eyebrow at her, determined not to be beaten. "But that does not accurately answer my question- what are you?"

The little of Kreia's face she could see hardened, her lips in a firm line before opening to speak. "What do you wish to hear- that I once believed in the code of the Jedi, as you do now? That I followed the path of others, that I heard the call of the Sith, and perhaps held the galaxy by the throat? For every good I did, there was equal harm to the galaxy, and perhaps what the greatest Sith Lords know of evil, they learnt from me?" She shook her head slightly. "Would it matter now? There will be no such comfort in hearing such stories, and such things are long past me, past both of us."

Her curiosity, however, had peaked, and her yearning for knowledge was pushing her to speak. "I still wish to hear your tale, Kreia, however irrelivant it may be."

She nodded at her pupil, and a small pain began to touch her temple, before it gained strength, travelling back towards her neck and upper back. It seared through her head, and she let a small groan escape her. This was a terrible kind of agony, it felt as if someone was trying to slip into the darkest corners of her mind, and was doing without warning, without permission, and was forcing themselves in, her brain screaming in protest at the unwanted trespass. She glanced up at Kreia, and understanding flooded her, and cautiously allowed her mental defences to crack, and slowly open, like a door creaking open.

Images fashed across her mind, like a flickering light, images of pain, humiliation, and disloyalty. Betrayal at the hands of supossed allies. She let herself fall backwards as the memories continued to flow into her, blocking out her surroundings. The ache had faded, leaving a small dizziness in it's place, and her master's experiences finally faded. She slowly lifted herself on weak arms, and a voice, small, shaking, and unlike her own, whispered in the soft darkness of the room, "They exiled you."

Kreia nodded slightly again, and her sage-like tones responded, "They cast me down, stripped me of my power. Learn from me, my mistakes, and use them to become greater than all, greater than me. This is all I wish for, all I desire, for on you, all my hopes for the future, for the galaxy, rest on you."

"I need more than that, Kreia, there are still so many questions- maybe more than before I asked." She stood, her arms crossed over her chest, and silence fell upon the room as Kreia pondered her answer. There was nothing to be heard other than the beeping of technology, and the light, steady breathing of the room's only other occupant. Finally, the old woman replied, though it was not the response Lillia had wanted, or even expected. She had thought Kreia would refuse her outright, give her a cryptic explination and a perplexing statement which would provoke more questions then they would ask, but she was suprised.

"If it means so much to you, then I swear this upon my life... upon both of our lives... that when you have completed your training, when I have revealed all of my knowledge, then all answers will be revealed. The shadows between us will fade, and there will be nothing but truth btween master... and apprentice."

On this note, she turned, and lowered herself to the ground, settling into a meditative pose, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders the only sign of life eminating from her. It wouldn't have taken any intuition for her to realise that their first 'lesson' had ended, and it was unwise to probe any further into the murky past of her comrade. It was frustrating, though... there were so many secrets being kept from her, so many lies being spun, it would most likely take another thirty years to uncover every grain of truth.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't like her much." The pilot's sleepy voice, obstructed slightly by his pillow, cut through the cool, quiet air like a knife. She raised herself from her mattress on her elbows, wincing as a small ache ran up her back to the base of her neck as she twisted to face him. He hadn't moved, still lying face down, sprawled out like he had been dropped from a great height.

"Just a question- how long have you been awake?" she asked, a curious mix of disbelief and annoyance flashing across her face, her mouth hanging open slightly. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and gave her a lopsided smile.

"How do you know I was even asleep in the first place?"

She dropped backwards, banging her head a little on the metal panel underneath her mattress. She stayed silent, too exhausted to start another arguement, and he rolled onto his side, proping his head up on his left arm to get a better look at her. She closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, wishing he had the courtesy to leave her be. She was not as lucky as she would like to be, however, and he persisted, an apparent need for conversation outweighing the fact that she clearly, desperately, needed rest. "So... what happened?"

"To what?" she said impatiently. If she had to have a conversation with another, it would be as fast and hazy as possible.

"Don't give me that. I know of plenty of times on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been handy to have. What happened to yours?"

She shifted slightly, suddenly wide awake again. "Exiles aren't allowed to keep their lightsabres."

"Huh... I thought Jedi were supposed to be married to their 'sabres or something. Were you a single hilt, or a double blade?"

She turned on her side to face him, keeping her face impassive and expressionless. "I had two single hilts."

He made a small, odd noise in the back of his throat, and she couldn't tell if it was from disgust or respect that she had the talent to master two blades. "Like Revan. You didn't go red like her, did you?"

She shook her head, mirroring his position and cradling her head in her right hand. "Both the blades and their crystals were... unique."

"Oh? Unique how?"

"Well, I remember one, one was silver. It was amazing..." she drifted off, and tried again. "Silver as the waters in the Room of a Thousand Fountains on Corusant."

He gave her a half-smile, and reached out, awkwardly, clumsily patting her left hand, unusually sensitive for a change. "It must have been something."

"It was." she swung her legs over the side of her bed, untangling them from the thin covers she had carelessly thrown over herself. Her arm was already filled with pins and needles from the weight she had pressed against it, and she stretched her limbs out in front of her, smiling gratefully as the tension left them. The pilot stood suddenly, switching beds, and sat next to her, glancing at Kreia with a small scowl on his face. The redhead grinned a little and muttered, "She's mediating- and even if she wasn't, she wouldn't be listening in on mundane conversations about lightsabres."

This knowledge didn't seem to be of much comfort, and he continued to glare holes into the old womans back. Lillia cleared her throat next to him, and he jumped a little at the sudden noise, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "And your other 'sabre?"

"Huh?" She'd temporarily forgotten the topic of their discussion. "Oh, violet."

Her features seemed to darken as she said it, something Atton seemed to notice- after nearly eleven months, it would be ridiculous not to think someone as observant as he wouldn't be able to read every expression on her face like he was flicking through the pages of a novel. "What is it?"

"I remember the day of my exile, before walking into the council chambers, my brother stopping me, telling meto prepare for the worst. He was close to Vrook, you see, one of the master's on the council, and he had divulged that exile was a very real option. So I ended up at a workbench before I entered the room, and I switched the crystal with a blue one I had in my pocket, as a spare, in case some thing happened..."

She took a deep, rattling breath, and continued, her fingers clenched around the metal rod underneath her knees. "After running for the place farthest from where those pretentious shutta's would head, I got the crystal fitted into a pendant, for a necklace." She gave a short humourless laugh, and plowed on, Atton, shockingly, listening with rapt attention. "I loved that crystal, I remembered the day I found it, it was my fifteenth birthday... and despite the fact Jedi aren't supossed to keep material possesions, I held onto it, until I was allowed to place it in my sabre." She shrugged, and turned her head to face him so quickly she pulled a mucsle.

Rubbing it, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I left it behind by accident whe- the day I left. Do you... do you know what happened to it?"

He looked almost suprised, and shook his head slowly. "Nope you left nothing with me as far as I know... sorry, I guess."

She grinned sadly, and raised her hand idly in the air, narrowly avoiding hitting him in the head. "Oh well, I probably dropped it somewhere on Nar Shaddaa... it doesn't matter. it was only a necklace..." she gave another little laugh that sounded more like a moan, and pushed him to his feet gently. He sat directly in front of her on his small bunk, and said, "Look, we need to be ready in case they decide to release us tommorrow, and I don't know about you, but I could do with some sleep."

"Yeah..." she whispered, her fatigue returning suddenly. She laid down, her still sore head resting on her thin, threadbare pillow. But before her eyes drifted closed, she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of Atton reaching up and touching something hidden by the collar of his shirt lightly before letting his hand settle on his chest and drifting off to sleep.

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Something soft and cool landed on her face, as softly as an insect landing on a flower petal. Another cold, wet something settled on her nose, before it liquified and turned into a small droplet, running down the length of her face to rest in her frozen cushion of... ice?

Whatever it was, the cool, damp little things falling on her were enough to stir some motion and energy within her. There was a deep freeze seeping into her through her clothing and into her bones, and her eyes snapped open. She jumped to her feet, glancing around and trying to remember the events of the past hour. It all came back to her in a rush when she saw the reminants of the shuttle they had obtained from the Telos military base on the surface, and the forms of Atton and Kreia stirring, brushing the thin blanket of snow and ice off of them as they stood.

She watched as the heated metal of their downed transport began to slowly melt the frozen terrain underneath it, and it slowly sunk a few meters, until the cabin was no longer visible. A small amount of panic hit her when she remembered the other occupant of the small vessle.

"Bao-Dur." she mumbled, her words searing her burnt throat, and she stumbled through the thick layers of snow to the port side of what remained of the shuttle, ignoring Atton muttering furiously about getting shot at as Kreai made another curt insult about his piloting skills.

She let out a small breath she hadn't realised she had been sucking in when she saw the Iridonian lying face down in the snow, his movements of his torso ensuring that he still lived. Even from a few meters away, she could clearly see that required some medical care, but it would have to wait until they found some kind of shelter. She shrugged off her jacket, draping it around her old friend's shoulders, the drexl leather guaranteed to insulate him long enough to keep him alive. She joined the others on the starboard side, avoiding a peice of melting shrapnel near her head. She examined the hull as she walked, trying to determine what kind of weapon shot them down.

"Who do you think got us? Some kind of automated defence system?" She called over the now strong wind as she made her way over to her pilot and her mentor.

"It could have been." Atton drawled, nodding at something over her shoulder, "Or it could have been the three assassin droids heading this way."

She turned on her heel, jaw clenched, raising the ion blaster she kept in her pack at them. Words and explinations were of no use- she was in no mood for the irritating hunks of metal.

Her aim had improved since her days in the war, due to the lessons Atton had given her seven years ago, and she managed to hit the center droid squarely on it's grey polished chassis. It overloaded with a spluttering jerk, sending flaming sparks onto the the other two, which were already aiming weapons.

The Exile slipped the vibrosword that was hanging off her belt into her hand, waiting until the others were closer to them. She dodged the shots fired, watching the red blasts that Atton fired hit their targets, to little effect. Her and Kreia charged forward, each taking the droid directly in their line of fire. Lillia's blade managed to wedge itself in the HK-50's chassis, and the droid fizzled and deactivated.

The second aimed a perfectly precise shot at Lillia, but thankfully, her arm jerked upwards as she removed her blade from the ruined remains of her would-be killer, preventing a hit to her exposed chest. She flinched as the scent of burnt flesh hit her, the bare skin of her arm so numb from cold that the hit had hardly registered. Kreia finished remaining HK unit neatly, sending a small charge of Force Lightning, shorting out it's primary systems.

Lillia reached down to her belt where a medpack was attached. She fumbled one-handed for a kolto injection, pulling it out just as Kreia and Atton reached her. The pilot wordlessly took the tiny needle out of her hand, pulling of the clear rubber cap and sticking it into her arm. The thick fluid pumped into her veins, mending the damaged cells of her arm. She turned to thank him, to be met with the sight of blood driping out of his thigh sluggishly.

"Dammit, you idiot, why the hell did you let me waste the only kolto injection we had on my arm? You can hardly wa-" she started furiously, but stopped her berating suddenly.

A long staff had connected with her newly healed arm, cutting her off, and she reached for the blade she had recently attached to her belt once again. At least five young women were standing in the snow, their bright white garments providing the perfect camoflague in the icy environment. That, along with their pale skin and ivory hair, allowed them to blend into their chosen home easily, and even nnow, as they stood directly in front of them, it was difficult to seperate them from the white landscape.

"Lay down your weapons, and you will not be harmed." The smallest, clearly youngest of the five, commanded in a naturally quiet tone, her voice as chilled as their surroundings.

"Who are you?" Lillia's voice was raised over the roar of the wind- there was a blizzard forming, and the snow was building past their ankles as they stood there. Her skin was slowly turning blue from cold, and she began to shiver violently, cursing the fact that Telos Citadel Station and surface was so warm as it forced her to abandon her outer shirt.

"I will not repeat myself again- lay down your weapons."

She sighed. They were out-numbered, it would be foolish to try and provoke them into a fight.

"Alright- but we had a friend with us-" She made a crude gesture towards the ruins of their transport, where the motionless form of Bao-Dur was still lying, a touch of black in a sea of white, while she clutched her arms to her chest, trying to keep in as much body heat as possible.

"We will collect him and treat his injuries." The pale woman began to trudge through the thick frozen wasteland, followed by two others while the remaining women headed towards the fallen tech. The Exile nodded at her companions once, and followed their new group of captors without a sound as the storm raged on.

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AN: Alrighty, this is chapter 6, for what it's worth. I hope you like it.

Okay, to answer a question or two...

I wasn't outting in any in game events because I truly despise Peragus, and after running through the game twice, I was already sick to death of it. Same with Telos, hence the reason I completely skipped over it so that we can get past the tasks you have to do for Chodo Habat and Lt. Grenn, because honestly, do you really want to read about the Exile collecting a plant sample for a smuggler? Do You? Do you _really_? That's what I thought.

And I've been writing Attin the way I have been because:

1) I have three of my friends telling me to. I have no creative control anymore.

2) Everytime I try and get rid of it, it feels like I'm writting Mical. And I WILL go back to writing Mical if you force my hand.

3) I've tried to explain it this chapter... he doesn't really know how to cope with this sort of thing. I mean, think about it- he finds this girl on Nar Shaddaa, he falls for her, he loses her, and now he has to try and deal with living with her again. So he retreats. He acts like a slime. He covers it all up, and tries to drive her away by acting like, to quote Jord, a cad. It's all one big defence.

I hope that makes sense- it's born from the fact he uses emotions to shield his mind. Hope that clears things up for some people.

And there really wern't many other characters to develope at that point- just Lillia and Atton. But Kreia and Bao-Dur will get more involved with the story now that they're off Peragus and Telos.

I know there was a bit of fluff for the last couple of chapters, but here is the little secret- I really don't care for fluff. So I tried to get it out of the way now so I can, you know, write about something interesting and dark.

As usual, any and all mistakes are mine, I have no way of spell checking it. I hope this wasn't too bad. 'Till next time...


	7. Chapter 7: Thrills and Chills

AN: Just in case you miss it, the *** means a dream sequence from now on. It's also pretty dark, so if you don't enjoy mild torture scenes then skip over it until you see *** again. I don't want to offend here. This is kinda a non- chapter- a chapter I wrote to tell the three or four people actually reading this that I'm still alive- just very busy with school. Also, it was to outline the fact that Jaq still dreams about Jedi that he broke or murdered, not just the Jedi girl that saved his life. It was to hint to the fact that Atton is going to teach some Echani techniques to Lillia soon, techniques that may save her life one day. Additionally, it was to alert people to the fact that we are now off Telos and heading towards Nar Shaddaa, something that will be amazingly interesting for the two grumpiest lovers of all time.

I hope you like at anyway. If not... oh well, I'll just have to try harder. :) :) :)

**Thrills and Chills (aka, the Non-Chapter)**

_***_

_He looked so much smaller as he lay there. Where there had once been courage and defiance, there was now a shadow of a person, like the ghostly apparition of the strong, confident Jedi that had once stood in front of him, preaching the code that was so dear to him until his throat was raw and parched. The clean, crisp robes that once hung loosely on his well-built frame were in tatters, strewn on the cold flooring around the bio-bed he was stretched out on, leaving him in little more than his underwear. Occasionally he would shiver in his sleep, the cold air more torturous then the endless hours of electric shocks and slicing to his body._

_Jaq ran his finger over the blades of the many knives that lay in straight rows on his workbench, glistening in the overly bright lights, each one silently begging to be used on his captive Jedi. The skin on his finger broke and dark red blood began to drip out of the wound as he caressed one of the sharper knives lovingly. His fingers wandered down to the hilt, grasping it eagerly, excitement coursing through his veins, a thrill he could only feel when he could finally let loose, finally throw away any shreds of dignity and control he still possessed, when instinct could take over._

_The Jedi stretched out before him cracked an eye open, the grey twin orbs staring up at him, empty and stony. Blood still dripped sickeningly out of various cuts on his arms and lower torso, while the ribs clearly showing through the skin of his chest were covered in dark bruises and small holes, left over from the many needles that had pierced his previously flawlessly unmarked flesh._

_He was staring at Jaq, carefully appraising the older man as he approached. Water was running in the background, the taps on the far side of the room rusted and stiff after so many uses. All the gentle sound did was make the cell seem more eerie than the others. That and the sound of rodents and the constant smell of blood and decaying flesh was why Jaq was so very fond of Cell 43. It was more personal than the other rooms along this corridor, like a second home. It felt more... Jaq-ish. _

_He wiped the blood that had been drawn from his finger on the thin material of his shirt, matching that of the others. Each crimson mark on his clothing was just another tally, each one of a small, straight line signifying how many he had killed in this, his favourite room. Right now, he was up to seven, and so far, it was still as thrilling as when he had started. _

_His prisoner hadn't moved, hadn't blinked so far, and hadn't even trembled as the cold air continued to hit him. There was no way for him to communicate any longer, the part of his brain that processed speech and language was damaged beyond repair from the constant stream of drugs and poisons working through his system even as they stared at each other. After a few silent minutes, it became something of a game between them a contest to who would crack and blink first. Jaq's eyes weren't even watering when his opponent cracked and closed his eyes, droplets slithering their way out from under his closed lids._

_He grinned as he watched the moisture pour down his cheeks, the rivulets glistening in the artificial lights strobing down on them both. The dark hair carelessly thrown down over Jaq's forehead added to the shadows and accentuated the shallows around his eyes, giving his a somewhat wraith like appearance. Just the way he liked it. _

_He sighed inwardly. He had enjoyed Seven. He had been one of the fun ones so far, someone he was sure to remember for a few months, at least. He was so close to cracking, too, it seemed a shame to kill him. But he was far too broken for Revan's tastes; the inability to for a coherent sentence was bound to deduce a few points from his rather impressive score. He was damaged goods. And Revan disliked people who were too far over the edge, the damage too severe. He may as well have fun with him before he let him go, though, so that it was at least worth his time._

_He ran the serrated edge of his dagger along the few remaining muscles of his stomach, watched as the blood began to flow. The Jedi didn't even flinch, but his eyes told a different story than his expression and body- pain had flickered in the granite depths before being replaced with nothingness. Jaq smile grew as he dragged the sharp metal across and down to his sides, watching as the line began to form a delicate pattern as it mingled in with the other slices. Anyone not close to him would have assumed that he was simply cutting at random, but he was simply doing what his year nine art teacher had taught him to- create patterns and shapes in everything he did. _

_He continued until a deeply intricate design was carved in his flesh, like an artwork he had presented to his mother when he was fourteen. It had been one of the few moments when his mother was proud of what he could do, art being the only class he really solidly attended. Nothing else seemed to interest him the same way. It had been his first real passion. No matter. He was following another of his passions. _

_The memories of his mother came back in a rush, giving him the encouragement he needed to simply finish the job. He drove his blade into the Jedi's chest quickly, the warm blood spurting over his neck and chin. He sighed out loud this time, and smeared the blood from his blade onto his trousers. It seemed a shame to ruin such a wonderful piece of artwork, but hell. There was always tomorrow. There was always prisoner number Eight. _

_***_

_A small agonized moan escaped his mouth as he rolled to his side, nearly tipping over the side of his bunk. A tiny burning sensation was surging through his head as the long suppressed memories of his first breaking flashed through his mind. Over the past week the frequency of his dreams had increased, bringing back thoughts and reminders of Jedi he'd forgotten about years earlier. _

_A bead of sweat travelled the length of his face from his temple to his jaw, and he twisted upwards slightly, flipping his body over the side of his bed and settling against his pillow again, a pillow now damp with sweat. His chest heaved with effort, the need to breathe outweighing the horrible ache that had rested in between his lungs. His throat seared as he opened his mouth to cry out again, but the sheer amount of times he had let out moans and screams through the night had left a burning sensation in his windpipe._

_The memories were becoming faster, and more violent as he vividly remembered the moment when he had realized that the Jedi Knight he had tried to break was refusing to budge, instead deciding to chant his precious code until his voice failed him. His death hadn't been quick or merciless, it had been as long, drawn-out and as painful as he could have possibly made it, injecting him full of a poison that slowly ate at the flesh of his insides. _

_Out of every single one of the Jedi he'd broken, apart from the Jedi girl he'd killed most recently, this was the one he respected the most. Because it had taken six months for him to kill him, six months and he hadn't broken. The most significant thing, was that he was only seventeen, a young man, only a Knight, and he had resisted for so long._

_Something, a soft hand, brushed across his face, sliding across his cheekbone, the corners of his mouth, resting on his collarbone. Instinct kicked in, and he reached up, one hand securing the smaller, more nimble fingers of whoever it was in a strong grip, the other darting underneath his pillow, fingers clasping around the hilt of a small dagger he still kept under his pillow. He lifted his wrist, pressing the rough edge of the blade against the neck of the person hovering above him._

_His eyes snapped open, flicking around the small room urgently for a millisecond before they settled on the figure sitting next to his previously sleeping form. One of the hands in his tight grip had tugged out of his hold, grabbing the blade and twisting it out of his fingers. He felt the cool metal pressing against the tender skin of his neck an instant later, and he cursed under his breath._

_The foggy fuzziness lifted from his gaze, and he realized with a small sliver of disgust and horror that the person he had nearly slit the throat of, and had been disarmed by, was the woman he had tried so desperately to keep alive over the last two months._

_He sat up, hastily grabbing the blade out of her hold, stashing it back underneath his pillow and sending her what he hoped was an apologetic look. Thankfully, she nodded, a small smile twitching the sides of her lips, and shifted so that some well- needed distance was added between the two. _

_"You learnt that in special forces training, didn't you?" He asked quietly, rubbing his neck where the sharp dagger had pierced his skin._

_She nodded again. "Yeah... you were as well? Which branch?"_

_"Theta. You?"_

_"Zeta. I hear they had good people in theta, though. A lot of those soldiers were hand picked by Revan from millions of other troops. You must have been good."_

_He smiled slightly at the compliment. "Same with Zeta."_

_She shrugged, and muttered, "I was alright." under her breath, nervously tugging at the sleeves of her jacket in a move he had observed was one of shyness. _

_"A little paranoid, aren't we?" Her gloved hand waved in the general direction of his pillow where his blade had been stuffed, and he sat up, becoming conscious of the fact that the undershirt he slept in was bunched around his chest and tugged it down over his well-toned stomach._

_"Paranoia is when people _imagine _threats to their life. I _do_ have threats to my life."_

_"Oh? Anything I should be worried about?"_

_He winced slightly, almost unnoticeably, and back-tracked mentally, rapidly creating a vast collection of lies he could try to use. Finally settling on a suitable lie, he moulded his face to show an expression of mock thoughtfulness. He shook his head, smiling ruefully._

_"Nah, just a few exchange gits that have it in for me over a pazaak game."_

_There was a soft, comfortable silence for a few moments as the two listened to the distant sounds of the powered down ship, the low hum of a hyperdrive that was barely useable, the ticks and beeps radiating from the navigation charts. A soft look of understanding and remembrance lit up Lillia's face for a moment, but it was present long enough for Jaq to notice. "What's wrong?"_

"_Nothin'… just something about one of my parents…" She had never mentioned her parents before now, for Jaq had not needed to ask- he was the sort of person that people felt comfortable talking to. It is what had made him so damned good at what he had done. All he had to do was mould his expression into one of tentative curiosity, and she melted. Another stab of guilt and pity trickled through him, the voice in his head screaming that it wasn't right, wasn't fair, but he pushed it down just as Lillia spoke._

"_It's odd, what a person will remember about their childhood. I don't remember my mother's face or my father's name… but I remember, whenever I was upset as a child, one of them- I can't recall who- giving me a cheer-up hug…" she smiled at him, and he felt something in the regions of his stomach tremble and toss. "You looked like you could use one just now."_

"_Hm… just a hug?" He grinned at her lecherously, and she chuckled, gently whacking him on the forearm, her laughter just as low and rough as it was when they first met. _

"_Is that all you think about?"_

"_Occasionally I think about juma and pazaak, if that makes you feel a bit better."_

_She shook her head sadly, still grinning and stood, making her towards the door. She turned her head over her shoulder as she walked, the length of red hair trickling down her back brushing against her pale neck, and called back at him, "The smog is green today, so you can't leave the ship. We're running on life support systems." _

"_Right," he called back, rising unsteadily to his feet, the muscles in his legs and back protesting as hours of tensions and pain flooded through them. Lillia returned seconds later, and Jaq silently thanked whatever deity was watching over him that he hadn't started undressing already. Her eyes swept over his face as he reached down from the floor next to his bunk to retrieve his ribbed jacket, shrugging it on as he rose to meet her scrutinizing gaze._

"_You look awful."_

"_Uh, I was having a wild nightmare, I was out like a light." He said shortly, a quick smirk flashing across his face momentarily, trying to make his way past her, brushing up against her arm. She reached out and clutched his forearm, her fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt and leaving small crescent moon shaped cuts in his arm. _

"_Right…" she said sceptically, "I have wild nightmares too, ya know, and I've known people who get horrible night tremors, but I have never seen someone look so…" she considered her words carefully, "haunted, before. What the hell were you dreaming about?" _

_The expressionless heart-shaped face stared at him, her eyes asking him a silent question. He gazed at her for a moment, and glanced at her green depths for a second before doing a small double-take. When he'd first met her, they had been empty and barren, like staring into a void, but now… they were filled with pain. Agonizing, horrifying, deep, truly terrible pain, something one may experience whilst being tortured. That alone made him want to tell her every putrid, vile little thing he had ever done, lay it all out on the table and pray that someone so hurt could understand even the slightest. _

_He swallowed a little, pushing down the foreign lump that was rising in the back of his throat and looked directly at her. He reached out with a trembling finger and brushed a few strands back behind her ear. And did what Jaq Rand does best. He lied. _

"_It was just a dream, angel. Relax. Nothing important."_

Lillia lifted her fingers to her mouth and bit down on the skin, trying to keep the blood flowing. The numbness had spread from her hands up to her collarbone, and down to her legs. The entire academy was like a temple of ice and snow, and the chilliness of the scorned Jedi master residing here was only adding to the discomfort.

The white, dusty frost swirled around her feet as she exited Atris's meditation chambers, pulling on a pair of gloves she'd kept in her jacket pocket, which, thankfully had been returned to her after Bao-Dur had been found. It was doing little to drive away the deep cold that was weighing down her entire body like someone was pumping frozen metal into her veins.

The handmaidens she past all looked upon her with badly concealed dislike and disapproval etched on their identical features, eventually becoming increasingly amused as it became apparent that the Exile was fast becoming lost in her surroundings. She glanced around, ignoring the small chuckles coming from one of the sisters, hoping to seek out another hallway or an echani sister willing to help her.

Turning around sharply, she rubbed her hands together again, praying to any and all gods that were listening that she wouldn't suffer any severe effects from the exposure to the deep freeze. A stab of irritation hit her as hard as the icy gust of wind that whipped around her, and her breath began to form misty clouds with every exhale.

A few more minutes of fruitless walking was useful for only one thing- the movement stopped her legs from tensing and helped the blood flowing in her lower body. She turned, and saw a smaller, younger sister standing hear her, a tiny smile on her face.

"You are the Exile. The one Atris warned us about."

"And what did Atris say?" Anger, coupled with amusement, flared briefly in her stomach, but she fought it down.

"She said... that you betrayed the Jedi, by going to war when it was forbidden to you. You turned on your teachings, your masters, and yourself."

"Oh, she's just teasing you. We're more like sisters." Sarcasm replaced the anger, allowing for false glee to enter every word, every action, a defence that had always helped.

"That is not all she says. She says you know nothing but loyalty to any cause except your own animal instincts, and she told us why you fell to the dark side." There were traces of triumph in her voice, like a small girl ratting out a naughty kid to a teacher.

"And why did I fall, hm?" Her smile was fixed in place, but her insides were boiling at the girl's words.

The echani gave a deep breath, and continued. "Atris says you fell to the dark side during the Mandalorian wars when you gave in for your lust for battle. Once you tasted war, you couldn't give it up.

"That doesn't explain why I never fought in the Jedi Civil war." Lillia crossed her arms across her chest, more curious than amused now.

"Atris says that when the dark lord Revan returned to the Republic you did not march with them because you had fallen so far, you could no longer feel the Force."

"Hm, anything else?"

"I believe that is the full extent of her expressed feelings towards you. There are variations at times, but all rise from the same foundation."

"Wait, 'expressed feelings?'"

"Yes, it is difficult sometimes for others, like Atris, to speak their heart, or listen to it. The words often prove difficult, or they do not come at all."

"And just what do you think Atris's heart says?" The partial grin on her face had disappeared, her rage fading with it. Her voice lost it's confidence and harshness, and dropped to a faint whisper, misery stirring in the confines of her belly, where the fury had recently been.

"Without having seen you and Atris fight, I cannot say. Combat and battle are pure forms of expression; they are heart and discipline, reduced to movement and motion."

"So..." the Exile said carefully, "if I fought Atris, then maybe the truth about me will come out?"

"Perhaps. It may prove truer than conversing with words. In battle, the words are swept away, giving way to actions, mercy, sacrifice, anger, fear. These are pure moments of expression." The Handmaiden's voice had become almost reverent, filled with awe and conviction, a person who truly believed in what they had been taught.

"Huh. Look, could you tell me where my companions are so I can get out of Atris's hair? This place is a little confusing...?"

"Through this hallway. They are being held in the old irrigation chamber, behind force cages. Though it is doubtful they could have presented use with much of a fight. The old woman was relatively peaceful, and the Iridonian was still unconscious when we found him. The other, though, the young man… he could have proved a challenge if he had chosen to fight."

"Oh? Why would that be?"

"When we found you he fell into a stance we knew well. He has had training concerning the echani techniques."

Lillia tugged on a strand of hair that had fallen from the sloppy braid snaking down her back. "I know, we both do. He taught me the first tier a few years ago."

The Handmaiden raised a slender eyebrow as she watched the Exile fiddle with the bright, glossy lock that was coiling around her finger. "I believe you are mistaken in assuming which tier he was using."

The muscles on her forehead seized and crinkled. "But he told me he only knew the first tier."

"Then he was untruthful. The stance he fell into was that of the third, and most advanced, tier."

Lillia's scowl became darker. "I remember someone telling me once that the Republic Special Forces never taught anything past the first tier because the next stages were so brutal, almost inhumane. Used only when a person wants to kill as efficiently and effectively as possible. "

The younger woman nodded once and continued, her voice silken and low and her lovely, unique face unreadable. "The advanced techniques are taught to military special forces around the galaxy. If it is a source of mystery to you, perhaps you should inquire as to where he learnt such movements."

The exile nodded once and turned to leave, but the Handmaiden grabbed her arm in a strong, vice-like grip before she could take a step. "It is a truly awful thing to kill a person using the third tier, using nothing but your own hands and ancient techniques to end a life. It requires a cold hatred, a passion and joy for death. You may not want to turn your back on a person such as that."

A tendril of ice ran down her spine at the Handmaiden's words, a tendril that had nothing to do with the frozen surroundings. The chill deepened when she spoke again. "And it would be wise to assume you do not know as much as you think about this individual."


	8. Chapter 8: Spills and Chills

**Chapter 7 aka Non Chapter II: Spills & Chills**

_*** _

_The cell had the thick, heavy scent of blood and rust to it, every wall, every surface, every instrument felt like something- or more accurately, someone- had smeared bodily fluids everywhere and had been unable to remove the stench or the feel completely. The tools, undoubtedly to be used on her at a later time, had a thick coating of rust on each, as if they had been rinsed with water so many times without anyone even trying to take care of them. Or perhaps the metal had been oxidised on purpose, to add the pain of infection to the torture sessions that would certainly be in store for the captured woman. _

_The guard escorting her to what he described as 'the playroom' was watching as her eyes swept over each implement, the thin smirk his lips had been curved to resemble stretching into a insanely happy grin as he saw her flinch, her mind going into overdrive as she thought about just how, exactly each tool, each implement, would be used to induce as much pain to her body as possible._

_She turned to face him after finally finishing her appraisal of each piece of equipment , to find he was shaking with suppressed giggles. It had an undesirable effect on the man, the flaps of purple skin the were customary to his species flapping around his jaw line unpleasantly, this golden eyes flashing with a barely controlled malice, shadowed by lust and greed. A small rivulet of blood trickled from her mouth when his fist made contact with her face, and her knees collapsed from the shock of it. She landed heavily on her back, the tensed muscles somehow cushioning the fall. Or more likely, the adrenaline her body was pumping out was decreasing the pain she felt. _

_He squealed with laughter at the tiny sound she made when she fell, when she smeared the blood on her chin up across her cheek, and he stooped, the unique scent his species secreted from the glands on their arms filling her nostrils, making her want to retch. His hand darted out, grasping her chin in his rough, slimy-skinned hands, forcing her to look into his eyes._

_"Relax, pretty human girl. Jaq will not use such crude devices on someone as important as you. He will want to use his favourite toys on you, pretty human girl. He will make you cry, and hate, and scream..." he pulled her closer, the patches of scaly skin on his cheeks that reflected mood and emotion changes went from normal, temped violet to blackish blue within seconds, signifying hatred. "And then he will take you. Violate you until he has broken you into millions of pieces and no-one can repair you. He will make you love him, pretty human girl."_

_She gasped slightly, not out of fear or disgust, but because he had reached out with his other hand and gripped her throat roughly, squeezing slightly. He let out another wild chuckle, dropping her to the ground. She landed heavily, and stayed as still as she possibly could, a single tear leaking out of her now closed eyelid. He giggled again and kicked her roughly in the side, not incredibly hard but just enough to cause an uncomfortable shock to pass through her. _

_She could feel his warm breath on her cheek as he whispered, "Sleep, pretty human girl. Wait here for Jaq."_

_His soft footfalls echoed in the small space of the cell as she remained on the ground, heart thudding with a frantic rhythm, thudding so hard against her ribs she was sure that the organ would burst our of her body. She lay immobile, praying that she wasn't being watched, before rising herself on weak limbs as though she had forgotten how to stand. _

_The entire place looked near impenetrable, of course, as if Revan and her obsession with perfection and order would permit anything different. The rust and filth that had built up on every surface, however, gave the feel that this was a room used by someone who had the privlage of his or her own working space. There was no way someone like Revan Jassen, who used to have decontamination sweeps of her dormitory, would allow for anyone to soil a room like this and get away with it for more than a day._

_Whoever this 'Jaq' was, he had her sister's ear. And possibly more._

_She shivered again, the cold of the room seeping into her bones. 'Jaq' had managed to catch her on Tatooine, of all places, so her body was still used to the stifling heat of the desert world. The temperature of the room seemed to be steadily dropping, and she was certain it wasn't her imagination- yes, someone was fiddling with the life support systems in this part of the base. The torture had begun without her even realising it._

_The thin threadbare clothes she had been forced into did nothing to drive away the cold- if anything, it made it worse. Her bones and muscles ached, her head was pounding as the cold became more intense. Her teeth were beginning to chatter against her will, and she drew her legs up to her chest, trying to conserve body heat, hoping and praying to whatever deity was listening that she survived._

_***_

"_Ouch…" Lillia muttered. Her stressing dream had jerked her out of her sleep harshly, and in her panic, she had jumped at least a mile in the air, smacking her on the metal canopy above her._

_The dreams of her capture by the Sith seemed to be re-surfacing again. The first month afterwards had been punctured with an onset of paranoia, each tiny noise jerking her from her rest. The cold that had settled into her bones during her imprisonment had also settled into her insides, keeping her chilled in even the warmest areas._

_It had been strangely easy, she mussed as she hulled herself, exhausted and aching, to the 'fresher, to escape after such a clever capture. The guard who had taken such delight in tormenting her had also been given the dummy task of feeding her once a day. It was apparent that is training had been slight- perhaps he was only a cocky rookie, for it was a beginner's mistake to take his eyes of her. One sharp jab to the neck and he crumpled._

_He also should have known better to carry a stealth field generator on his person- if, by chance, a prisoner does overwhelm you, do not have anything around them to aid their escape in any way. It wasn't a hard rule to remember._

_She splashed cold water on her face, the icy chill of the recycled liquid frazzled her already tense nerve endings. Her fingers dragged over her cheeks, down her neck, to her chest and belly, feeling the raised ridges of too many wounds and scars, standing testament to her time fighting the Mandalorians. _

_Her hand finally rested on her side, the imprints of her now missing 'sabre etched there for the rest of her life, a constant reminder of all she had lost. The wound still stung, though she was certain that the visual was causing her pain rather then the actual physical harm. _

_Each time she glanced at the garish marks, the pain of her battles, the weight of her actions and the horror of the decisions she had made would come back to haunt her. The sound of her lightsabre, the soft hum, the bright, beautiful colour as it swung in the air… the red of blood as her people fell around her, the screams of the men as they were cut down, the pain of feeling them die…_

_Her fist slammed down onto the dirty, cracked sink of the fresher. The darkness of the powered down ship wasn't as intense in the tiny room, the soft white lights flowing from the small sonic shower lit up the room with a ghostly glow, and she glanced up at her reflection. Her porcelain skin looked gaunt in the low light, every fissure and shallow on her face seemed deeper, shadowed and dark. The eyes reflected the empty feeling of her insides, and she blinked, if only to see if she was alive, and not simply an emotionless statue._

_The small tube of dermal gel still hidden in the top draw underneath the sink was extracted, her left hand working deftly, without her notice. A small blob of the clear substance squeezed out onto the tip of her finger, and she lifted the tiny top she slept in to rub in into her hip. _

_The effect was immediate- the skin seemed to melt in front on her eyes, before matching her skin tone and filling in the gaps and crevices. Within seconds the skin looked neat and clean, completely whole. _

_She took a deep breath. The memories that had been flashing through her mind as she stared at the scarring dimmed, like a raging inferno dying down into embers and ash. She made her way out to the living space, an area smaller than that of the 'fresher and much colder, stumbling over an empty bottle on the way. _

'He went on another binge.'_ She thought gloomily, kicking aside several more half-empty bottles and made her way over to where her sleeping friend was, careful not to tread on pieces of broken glass and used stims. _'He promised me he wouldn't…'

_He was still fully dressed, thankfully, and a twi'lek girl was de-tangling her limbs from Atton's sleeping form, trying to dress quickly and silently. The dancer fiddled with the clasps on her shoes, re-zipped the tiny outfit she wore, and turned on her heel to leave without glancing at the motionless form of Lillia or her still sleeping conquest. Flicking her head tails over her shoulder, she paused, considering the man for a moment, before muttering, "Doesn't matter if he slept through it all- he still dragged my ass out here…" She riffled through his pockets, still steadfastly ignoring the other conscious occupant of the room, and pulled out a fistful of credits, slipping them into her tiny pocket._

_She paused again at the door, and turned to where Lillia was standing, staring at her wonderingly, quietly asking herself if the girl was robbing Atton blind. She cleared her throat, and finally spoke. "If it makes you feel any better, love, I didn't fuck him. He's all yours."_

_She stood slightly taller, miffed at the implications that the sentence held, and asked in clipped tones, "What, exactly, makes you think I would even care?"_

"_Well, after doing what I do for five years, you learn quickly that a girl that shows up wearing nothin' but a singlet and real small shorts in the morning is probably a scorned girlfriend. Though," she snorted a little, reaching up to scratch one of her lekku absent-mindedly, "I wouldn't be too proud to be with a guy like that. He was so pissed last night he wouldn't stop rambling about rancors eating speeders and some chick called Lolia."_

_With that, she flounced out of the room, clearly satisfied with the possible problems she had created. Lillia watched her green form slink away, probably to entrance another lonely man out of their credits, and jumped when a small, grunting snore escaped the scoundrel's lips. She turned to him just in time to watch as he rolled off the small couch he had collapsed onto and onto the floor, narrowly dodging yet another broken bottle. He yelped, a weak noise that ended is a long, agonised groan. He attempted to sit up, but winced and quickly gave up, his face going a delicate white before her eyes. _

_Bitting back giggles, she stole over to the fallen pilot. He gave her a weak smile as she approached, reaching out and brushing away pieces of glass. _

"_You know, sweetness, you could do something productive here for me, like propping me up and grabbing a basin, or getting me a big ole glass of water, some pain pills…" He regarded her from his upside down position, "Maybe throw on a skirt?" He looked hopeful, and she laughed from the sheer stunned stupidity of that dazed grin etched on his handsome features. _

_Grasping the front of his jacket, Lillia heaved him upright until he was at his feet. He wobbled dangerously, and she wrapped her arms securely around him, trying to stabilize him. His lanky frame teetered, and she tugged him down until he settled into the corner of his seat. _

_A sickened look appeared, and he said with difficulty, "I wasn't kidding about that basin, angel."_

_She darted up, just as he let out a low groan and sagged forward slightly, burying his head between his legs. His gasping breathes followed her into the tiny room that passed for their cargo holds. She grabbed the first container she saw and rushed back to him, manoeuvring around the mess of shattered glass and spilt juma._

_She had just nestled the bucket in between his thighs when he emptied the contents of his stomach. She rubbed his back gently as the heaving became soft retches. He remained still for several moments, shuddering, before he sat back and groaned. She stood and left again, this time heading back to her 'fresher. A small cloth was resting on the vanity, and she twisted the faucets until there was a decent spray. She dipped the rag into the water, pulling it out and squeezing out the excess water. _

_Making a stop to grab some water for him, she gave a small, warbling cry as something small and sharp poked into her foot. She lifted her heel, a small amount of irritation flicking in her belly when she saw it was a tiny piece of crystalline glass, embedded in the muscle of her foot. She cursed, moving her ankle around enough for the small chunk of glass to detach itself. Limping the rest of the way to the living area, she saw that Atton was sitting up, his head lolling back to rest on the back pillows of the sofa. _

"_If I only ever teach you one thing, sweetness, let that one thing be this- never drink a Transdoshian Fire Breather on an empty stomach. Things could get messy and before you know it, the bartender has become a pretty Twi'lek girl you feel obliged to take home."_

_Lillia, at this point, was at the brink of telling him that he had indeed escorted a crusty old man who served drinks for a living back to his ship- her foot really did hurt quite a bit- but she took the high road, and mumbled, "Your 'pretty Twi'lek," She used the word 'pretty' rather loosely- she had been rather haughty looking, and it had detached from her beauty, "Decided that it would be best if she was compensated for a night wasted." Atton threw his hands up in the air, and she sat next to him, watching as he grunted again, and lowered his face to the bucket on the floor in front of his slumping figure._

_Finger combing his hair as he vomited and cursed, she thought about what the dancer had said, why it had bothered her so much. The idea that she and Atton, in any relationship outside of friendship…_

_The concept was new to her. Unlike Revan she had never found the need to indulge during the war, or earlier, never found the need to succumb to her base lusts. The idea had never occurred to her, even now, in her exile._

_And Atton was, as the young dancer had said, not the most suitable person to have any rapport with out side friendship. Last night was as good an example as to why as any._

_His excessive drinking, his tendency to pick up strange women and bring them back to the ship to have his way with them, the stimulant usage- all of it would do nothing but make the prospect difficult. She was worried about him now, as his friend- how much would that worry increase if love was involved?_

'But he is handsome, and charming.' _she thought dumbly, her insides melting slightly at the weak, yet still roguish smile he shot at her. She reached out absent-mindedly and patted his shoulder, noticing that he was slowly drawing closer. Before she could start protesting the open display of affection, he had laid down on her tummy, resting on the solid plane of muscle that was her stomach. She opened her mouth to ask him to move, but his soft hair was rubbing against the tender, exposed skin, and it was all she could do to continue breathing rhythmically._

_And he was good to her- better, indeed, than anyone had treated her in a long time. At this point he had settled into her lap quite comfortably, arranging his weight so not to cause her discomfort. She began finger combing his hair again, and murmured downwards to where his head was resting on her belly, "Promise me that you won't do this again." She felt his open his mouth to argue, and she placed a tiny finger over his mouth, "I'm not telling you how to live, I just worry about you. Binging is one thing… what you're doing is close to suicide. You're killing yourself slowly, and it terrifies me sometimes."_

"_Maybe I'm doing it so I can cope. You know what it's like…" She sat up a little, trying to see his face, but is was positioned to hide his expression from her view. _

"_But it's been getting worse over the last week." She kissed the top of his head lightly, and for once, he made no barb about her interest in him, no jokes or innuendo. She began to murmur into his hair again, now with a touch of desperation, "Please, just… look after yourself? I… really don't want to be left alone right now."_

_He was quiet for a long time after this, and she was worried. Worried that she'd chased him away with her sudden neediness. Worried that he wouldn't want to stay with someone so damned damaged. That he'd leave her like everyone else she had ever loved did._

_But then he sat up, and placed a tiny, chaste kiss on the side of her mouth, and her concerns swept away. _

_He sighed, looking down at his feet, then darted his gaze back up, and grinned weakly. "Sure thing, sweetness. I'll give it a go, but we both know that in a week, we'll be right back here where we started."_

"_I hope not. Because I'm holding you to this." He rolled his eyes slightly, and her hand lashed out to hit him lightly in the arm, "I'm not asking you to stop drinking all together, I'm just asking you to cut back a little. And tell me what's wrong, for crying out loud."_

_This, surprisingly, was a very stupid thing to say._

"_You want to know why I've been drinking more than usual?" He said suddenly, and he shot up from his position between her legs with a burst of anger that frightened her slightly, "I'll tell you why- I wasn't lying when I said it was to cope. I did some real shit things in the war, sweetness, and trust me, it's not the sort of thing you want to think about."_

_He hadn't realised it yet, but he was yelling at her. She didn't move, didn't speak- instead took it all, knowing that this was something he needed to get out now before he exploded, "And for some reason, I've started to dream about it, re-living it every time I close my eyes, and at least when I pass out after a night of throwing back juma like its water, I don't have to deal with the nightmares! So I'm sorry if you worry, but I need to do this, or I'm going to snap."_

"_And sometimes you need to let it all out." She opened her mouth, to argue that there were better ways of managing, and he spoke over the top of her, added venom to his voice, "And don't lecture me about release, sweets. When was the last time you experienced any kind of emotion?"_

_With that, he turned and made his way trough the mess of glass and liquor to his dorm. But something inside her seemed to have been triggered by his rage, and she stood, following him to his room, slowly, the deep cut on her foot now turning into a dull throbbing. _

_She finally made it there, to the sight of Atton yanking off his shirt and chucking it as if it had personally insulted him. The numerous scars and toned muscles stood testament to his acts in the war, and for a moment, she was willing to simply turn and leave him to his anger. _

_But the memory of Malacor, the day when her order to destroy the planet was issued, loomed over her like a spectre, and suddenly, she's had enough._

_In all this time, she hadn't gotten angry at anyone- not Revan, not the council, not the engineers who created it, not even herself. She hadn't felt the need. But this man was forcing her to blame someone, face the rage and revulsion that she felt. _

"_You think you're the only one that did terrible things during the war? What about me? Revan was my fraking sister. I saw it all up close too, you know. You aren't alone, so quit acting like you're so hard done by!"_

_His mouth was hanging open slightly, the sudden outburst causing him to drop the shirt he was clutching to his chest. She took a deep breath and continued. "And is it so hard to accept that I'm concerned about you? What the hell happened to you that made you into such a prick? What in the force occurred in your life to not want you to hold on to the idea that I'm not telling you to stop drinking heavily because I'm cruel, but because I want to make sure you're okay-"_

"_The Jedi, alright! The Jedi is what happened, sweetness!" He took several steps forward until he was so close she could see every tiny fleck of hazel in his eyes. "They forced me into that damned war, and know all I can do it drink away the memories! And if a sheltered little princess like you can't understand that every once and a while a person has to crack just to handle it, then I can't explain it." _

_They stood in front of each other quietly, breathing heavy, until Lillia asked, voice quiet, "What do you mean, it's the Jedi's fault?"_

_He snorted and turned away. "You know exactly what I mean." He turned, and his face twisted briefly, contorting with rage before returning to normal, while his voice lowered to a hiss. "They lie. And they manipulate. And they have never, ever come through for me when I needed them. For frack sake, they let my home world burn. Because the self-righteous bastards were so slow to act during the beginning of the war, by brothers and sister were slaughtered." His eyes darkened until they were nearly black. "That, Lily doll, is exactly why I am the way I am."_

_And mirroring his earlier move, he swept past her ad out of the room, leaving her feeling more alone then she had ever been before. _

-------------------------

_She really is a manipulative old..._

Atton used the last of his mental coherency to curse the old woman repeatedly, while forcing his now damaged, bypassed mental barricades to re-erect themselves around his memories and private thoughts- thoughts ranging from everything to fantasies about killing his mother in increasingly grizzly ways, and old memories of watching Lillia sleeping. He could almost hear the old woman mocking him with his own perversions and wishes even after he lost consciousness.

Her words were still ringing in his head as his eyes flickered open and closed. Faint footsteps and the frantic hammering of his heart against his ribcage was all he could hear as, through heavy-lidded eyes, he saw the blurry outline of the double doors leading out of their 'prison' slide open with a dull hiss he couldn't detect.

He closed his eyes again, the frigid cold of the metal flooring biting into the skin of his cheek. An acrid smell of something burning and sizzling was reaching him, and he prayed vaguely that he wasn't getting singed.

The soft hum of the security field was growing louder as his mind began to clear. The haze of forced sleep was still hanging over him, and he let out a low groan when a small, needle sharp pain jabbed at his mind. Whatever the vicious old witch had done to him, she'd made sure that the after effects caused him as much pain as possible.

The surprisingly soothing noises that the force cage was making stopped, and it was enough to make him aware again. He lifted his head a little, his senses coming back into focus enough to hear the end of a conversation between two women.

"...looks out cold." _Oh, joy- our fearless leader had decided to swing into action and save the day._

"He is only sleeping, it seems that our previous activities has fatigued him."

A swell of anger hit him suddenly, but Kreia's warnings, and her threats, rang in his head. He bit his tongue just as a small hand clasped onto his shoulder harshly and shook him back to reality. The motions were rough enough to bring him out of his sedate state more abruptly than he would have liked, and he let out a small, annoyed noise, deep from the back his throat.

There was shrill giggle, and he realised with no small amount of horror that the sound he had made had been a squeal, or at least, something close to it. He beat the slender hand away as if it were an irritating insect, and sat up, propping himself up on lead-filled limbs.

Lillia was standing over him with her usual blank expression, conversing quietly with the Iridonian they had befriended. He nodded his horned head once, and turned to out-stretch his flesh and blood hand to the pilot.

"Just give me a sec..." he muttered, his head swimming. A small blush rose onto his cheeks when Lillia raised a slender eyebrow, and the embarrassment increased. Even though there was little to be embarrassed about, considering the mind-rape that he had just been subject to. He shot her a look of deep disgust, and she raised her hands in a gesture of condolence.

He ignored Bao-Dur's helpfulness and heaved himself to his feet, nodding brief, casual thanks in the tech's direction. He glanced to his left, to see Kreia's cell empty- she had evidently gone ahead to the ship. _Probably doesn't consider walking among the mortal folk worthy of her, the little..._

He jumped slightly when the Exile's hand rested on his shoulder again, and grimaced when his recent conversation with Kreia surfaced again, fragmented and disturbingly sharp.

"Are you alright? You looked out cold when I came in. You could barely stand." She looked genuinely concerned, though he was cynical enough to believe that it was spawned from guilt that she had laughed at him during a moment of weakness.

_What is it about this place that causes you such fear…_

"I'm fine- we were on our way to rescue you when we, ah... we got locked up."

_What do you mean? They're Jedi- you know how they are…_

"Well, I'm just glad you're okay- and I wanted to let you know that if you don't want to stay- and you clearly do not- we can drop you of on Nar Shaddaa. We're heading there anyway."

_What are you- ah, get out of my head…_

"Really? I'm guessing you aren't going for funzies. So, how did everything with the Jedi go? Are we okay with them?"

_Stop struggling; allow me to follow the current deeper… to it's source_

"You could say that- I agreed to help out Atris. We're heading to Nar Shaddaa to find a Jedi friend of hers."

With the fear is mingled quilt... it squirms in you like a worm. And the why... ah, an there is it's heart...

"Well, that isn't exactly what I wanted to hear. Oh, well, can't complain. It could be worse. I could be the Jedi."

You suprise me... I could not feel it before... your feelings are a powerful shield... a strong defence...

"You've done enough, you know. You can jump ship as soon as you want."

You can't tell her... please... I don't want her to...

"Nah, I was just complaining. I need to stick with you, ya know, make sure you stay out of trouble."

Think less of you... Despise you even more tan she already does... I highly doubt that's possible... still there is no shame in what you ask...

"Says the man that's trouble on legs."

We all wage war with the past... and it leaves it's scars... I will not speak of yours, no matter how much it entwines with hers... but there is always a price for such things...

"Yeah, well, I like to consider myself the good kind of trouble. Besides, this is my way of saying thanks."

What price

"For what? I haven't done anything to be thanked for."

There are those who wage war, and those who follow them... you are a crude thing, murderer, but you are useful in your own way...

"For not leaving me to die on Peragus. I owe you more than one."

You will serve her... until I release you... consider it payment in full... the young one would be proud...

"I couldn't leave you there to starve- besides, you begged, and I can't say no to grovelling." The tips of her mouth turned down in a thoughtful grimace, the sweet little glower that still made him smirk as he thought of ways to make it disappear. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little groggy."

And if I refuse, and decide I already payed her back enough...

"Look, I'm fine, stop fussing! I'm just a little dizzy."

You will not refuse... because if you do, then my silence will be broken... and then she will break you...

"Whatever's wrong, shake it off, I need you to stay alert. I can't have you falling asleep at the helm. Again."

You fear the jedi, and rightly so. If Atris senses your... desicions, your choices, you will never leave this place... she knew the one you killed, I believe...

"Hey! Look, I only did that once, and the transport ship we bumped against walked away without a scratch!"

_Wipe the fear from your mind... you will not find blind obedience a difficult master... you chose it once... I wonder how she will react to the concept of your following Revan..._

_I don't know how you became such a manipulative witch... but why a vicious old scow like yourself would even bother with me is a bigger mystery..._

_No game of dejarik can be won without pawns... and this may prove to be a very long, satisfying game indeed... and the self loathing within... it has given you a curious strength... one she admires... and is drawn to..._

_You have crosses our path again for a reason... perhaps even you, at the right moment, may be able to turn aside disaster... if so, your potential in not yet spent... and you have saved her before... you may do so again..._

_You have the wrong guy... she hates me, she can't wait to get rid of me... but, I'll be your pawn, for now..._

_The force, as you know, is a hard thing to predict... you have crossed our path for a reason... for her... and the exile... the past is here, and around you... and it must be resolved before the future can be set in motion..._

The small tunnel they had been walking through was coming to a sharp turn. The quiet sniggers of Bao-Dur behind them, laughing at the good natured heckling, echoed eerily as the flow of words stopped. His miniscule remote ahead of them beeped gloomily, spinning like a small dark moon, guiding their way. The weak Telosian sun was sinking behind the frozen mountains they had cruised over mere hours before, and it was becoming difficult to see in front of them. The smooth soles of Atton's boots threatened him with falling with every step on the frosted tiles, as did hers, and she grasped his hand suddenly as her feet fell from underneath her. He heaved her back up, wincing at her noise of pain as her arm was jarred out of the socket of her shoulder. He rubbed it gently, looking apologetic, and she mumbled a quiet thank you.

He glanced down to see her fingers were still firmly wrapped around his, ensuring she wouldn't fall again in the cold, damp darkness, and his throat tightened in spite of himself. Every callous, every scar and muscle on her hand was familiar, and for a moment in time, everything was as it was years earlier.

The small amount of physical contact with her after so long was pleasant, even if it would only be brief, and he grinned slightly in spite of the resignation he felt, and the certainty that she would never care about him again in the way that he wanted. Not if Kreia talked to her any time soon. There was no doubt in his mind that no matter what he did, no matter how well he played her little game, he would never win.

She would never let him win.

_Do not worry Atton. _Kreia's voice sounded loudly in his head, and his already strained nerves frazzled to breaking point. _If she is a Jedi, she will forgive, and if she is Sith, she will not care. But perhaps she is neither. And what will be your fate then?_

This painful realisation shivered through him. The old woman was perfectly correct- if she was neither Sith nor Jedi, what the hell was she? And what would one of her kind do to a murderer like him? He flicked through the scenarios quickly, scanning and skimming and dismissing each one as they formed. Put him off the ship and find another pilot- likely. Kill him- it wouldn't be surprising. General disgust- an assurance that he was counting on.

Something in the regions of his heart twisted. Maybe it _would_ be a good idea to sever the relationship completely once they hit Nar Shaddaa. It would be easier for all involved for him to simply disappear into the shadowy underbelly of the smuggler's moon, before they reconciled and forgave each other for past sins. Better to leave him forgotten.

But Kreia had not made an idle boast or pathetic threat-she would strike him down without a second thought if he even considered leaving her now. Besides, he owed her so much… to abandon her now after everything he'd done to her felt like he was spitting on the precious gift that the Jedi woman had given him years ago.

The dark look that appeared so suddenly on his face had not gone unnoticed, and he felt the bones and muscles in her hand contract as she squeezed his fingers so strongly he was sure that when she did release them, they would never return to their original shapes.

He waited for a few seconds as the rounded off into another anti-chamber, waiting to hear the old woman's sage-like voice slither into his mind again to whisper poison in his ear, but she remained mercifully, thankfully, silent.

---------------

Just another non-chapter people, and probably the worst chapter so far. Just to set up some plot points, the romance between Atton and Lillia, the fact that Lillia was, at one point, captured by Jaq, the torture of Atton by Kreia...

I was bored, and this helped to clear my head... I just finished tonnes of tests and exams, so I'm pretty beat at the moment. I can't seem to gather up the energy or even the motivation to write properly- the only thing that possessed me to finish this chapter was Atton Rand. :)

Anyway, for anyone still reading both this and '9 Months' there should be another chapter of the mini-series coming soon. See ya.


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